Golden Dreams
by iSackettEcho
Summary: The story of Eragon, the First Dragon Rider, and of the white Dragon, Bid'Daum.  Previously posted on SF3
1. Chapter 1

_Story notes:_

Just as a note, I deviated in a few details of Eragon's legend to better fit my version of the story. Mainly, I messed with time quite a bit... The war between the Elves and Dragons is supposed to last only five years, but for such powerful, magical creatures that nearly decimated each other, I figure that they at least had to beat out WWII... So the war lasts possibly much longer and the spell to bind the Elves and Dragons will not take the Queen and her spellcasters nearly a decade to figure out-Just thinking about that makes me want to fall asleep. So, yes, they are smarter and figure this out much quicker. Something else that has been pointed out to me several times: Although Paolini decided to keep the race names, such as "elf" and "dragon," lowercase (whereas Tolkien favored capitalization), I started my story writing Elf and Dragon, with capital letters, and kept with it for a long time before anyone pointed it out in my other fanfics. Because I have used it with this story for so long, they will remain capitalized (though my other fanfics conform to Paolini's style in this little matter...).

Also, I've been writing this fanfic so far over a period of more than three years in my spare time for fun. My style changed since I first started it, so if there are some discrepancies, well, that's why. That being said, if you find the first chapters a little wanting, please do not judge the later chapters by the first. Or if you happen to love the first chapters, hopefully you will find that it only gets better. :)

_Chapter 1_

_The sky suddenly darkened, and the very stars that the Elves used for a guide disappeared from the sky. An ear-piercing roar split though the eerie sky._

_Eragon, a young Elf, glanced fearfully at the night sky. Fiery flames billowed like clouds above him. The Dragons were attacking!_

_Eragon shuddered and ran. He heard his old father running behind him, struggling to keep pace with his young son. All around him, Elves fled in panic. Eragon could barely see the shifting, running forms in the smoke and ash around him. It was too dark._

_A spurt of flames nearby revealed a large rock that lay ahead of Eragon. As he ran, he leapt over the boulder. But as he continued to run, he heard his father grunt, stumbling over the rock, and fall._

_Eragon glanced quickly over his shoulder. "Father!" he yelled, frantically turning back to help his father. His father pushed him away. _

_"Go!" he yelled. "I cannot make it!"_

_His father was very old, and Eragon knew that what he said was true, that he could not out-run and escape the menacing Dragons, but hen could not bring himself to leave his beloved father. Eragon fought to hold back the tears that sprang to his eyes._

_Suddenly, a great blue Dragon dove out of the sky towards Eragon. Opening its frightening jaws, the Dragon spewed fire. Eragon screamed and raised his arms to shield his face._

_To Eragon's surprise, the flames flowed around him, leaving him untouched and unharmed. Once the flames ebbed away, Eragon glanced around him._

_Everyone was gone._

_Eragon was alone, and he was no longer in the beloved woods of DuWeldenvarden. Instead, he stood upon a high grassy plain overlooking the far away Spine mountains and the alluring sea beyond. The morning sun's first rays crept across the melancholy night sky, casting its glittering light on the glassy sea. At the site of the sparkling sea, Eragon's blood ran and his heart yearned to stand upon its peaceful shores._

_While submerged in his thoughts of the sea, a white Dragon, white like the foam on the waves of the sea, appeared before him. Frightened, Eragon screamed and fell to the ground, waiting for the magnificent Dragon's sharp claws to sink into his flesh. But the great Dragon did not move. Instead, the magnificent beast continued to stare at him with its great, opaque eyes, eyes as deep and reflective as the sea._

Eragon awoke with a start. With another jolt, he realized that it had all been a dream.

The Elf blinked his eyes rapidly to clear his blurred vision. He quickly glanced around his small room to be sure that it had truly been just a dream. The Dragon had seemed so real.

Stumbling from his high bed over his small workshop, he glanced at the work he had done the night before. A partially finished wood carving of a Dragon lay on the desk. He kept this small area to read, to write, to study, to draw, and to carve beautiful artworks. Other Elves said that he was gifted with art, but Eragon was never completely satisfied with his creations. The Dragon half carved into the wood looked nothing like the dragon that appeared in his dream. Shaking his head, he thought, _I will have to remake it._ Nonetheless, he would try and sell it, like he had with so many of his other works. His father was a poor man working a poor farm.

Eragon shuffled down the stairs and into the kitchen, where his father sat waiting for him to join him for breakfast. His father was his only living family member. His mother had died when he was still very young during a Dragon raid.

The young Elf slid into the chair across the table from his father. Eragon knew that his father was old. He stooped over as he sat or walked, and his hair was grey, a rare color even among the oldest Elves. His father had once been a mighty warrior, but now he was amongst the weakest of Elves. Eragon had been a welcomed gift in his old age and a great comfort after the death of his wife.

"What's wrong, son?" his father asked, his voice a raspy remnant of his once powerful, commanding voice.

Eragon started with surprise. Elves were taught to hide their emotions and not to be ruled by them. But his father always saw through each of his son's facades.

"I had a dream," he answered quietly, reaching for the small pile of meat on a plate in the center of the table. Although the Elves were ideally vegetarians, some were forced to hunt and eat meat in order to survive.

"A dream?" his father queried. "Hmm… I've never had a dream before. They are incredibly rare among the Elves." After a pause, he asked, "What was it about?"

Eragon described his vivid dream and then added, "The Dragon never spoke to me, but I knew what he said—or what he wanted to say. Perhaps, they were his thoughts that I heard. Yes, it was like I was hearing his thoughts. I cannot explain it any other way."

"Dragons don't have thoughts!" Eragon's father slammed his fist onto the table. Eragon jumped at the outburst. Elves rarely revealed their emotions so deeply. "They are vicious, thoughtless, vindictive animals!"

His father quickly quieted, embarrassed at his display. Seeing his son's shocked face, he said, "Forgive me…. We will take you to the magicians. Perhaps," his father added after a pause, "you are also gifted with magic."

His face beamed with pride for his son at the thought. Such a gift was prestigious.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Three days later, Eragon strode to the small paddock where his beautiful chestnut horse, Burnac, lazily grazed on the grass.

"Come on, boy," Eragon urged the horse. Burnac slowly lifted his head and trotted to him. "Time for classes with the Masters again."

Eragon leapt onto his horse's back. He liked, as most Elves did, riding his horse bareback without any constraining, uncomfortable contraptions to control his horse. With a squeeze from Eragon, Burnac settled into a trot down the forest rode, heading for Ellesmera.

As they neared the city, Eragon halted Burnac and waited for his friend Lilathnia to meet him. Every three days, the youngest generation of Elves rode to Ellesmera to learn from the Masters.

Eragon turned at the sound of hooves padding on the soft, golden blanket of fallen, rustling leaves. Lilathnia—beautiful, long-haired Lilathnia—silently approached. Her dark, coal-black hair matched the coat of the young stallion she rode. Her eyes were as blue and beautiful as the sea.

The two friends smiled their greeting. Urging his horse forward, Eragon rode alongside Lilathnia.

"I had a dream three nights ago," Eragon said suddenly. He had a burning desire to tell her of his strange dream.

Lilathnia started and looked interestedly at her friend. "A dream?" she repeated. "What was it about?"

Eragon jubilantly recounted his dream as she eagerly soaked in his words. As he spoke, her face shined with fascination and curiosity. He secretly found pleasure that he was able to please her in some small way.

"Eragon," she breathed, "it is an amazing dream. And awfully frightening. What do you suppose it means?" she asked, a look of foreboding in her eyes.

Eragon suppressed a shiver and said, "I don't know. Father is going to take me to the magicians soon."

The pair rode on together in amazed silence. Hesitantly, Eragon broke the silence and said, "I've had another dream since then. I had a dream last night."

Eragon looked down at his hands, burrowed deep in his horse's glorious mane. He glanced up to see his friend staring at him. Realizing that she was starring, a thing that Elves greatly discouraged, Lilathnia blushed and quickly looked away.

"Tell me about it," she said.

"You would never believe me," the young Elf hesitantly answered.

He paused and waited until they had passed through the gates of the city. Elves roamed about, working and talking together. The Elves, Eragon realized, tried to live out their ideals, but often life was too difficult and harsh to follow them as they wished. Perhaps, their future would truly be better, as he had seen in his dream.

Eragon moved his horse closer to Lilathnia as they rode and said in a low voice that only she could hear, "I dreamt of… well, I guess it's the future… of the Elves."

"Go on," Lilathnia urged, an expression of amazement splashed across her face.

"I dreamt that," Eragon paused, searching for the right words, "I saw the Elves living as they pleased- as they always wanted- endeavoring to live their ideals. To not have to kill to eat, or to work and never enjoy. All Elves are artists, in my dream, and each may work undisturbed in peace, perfecting their art. All Elves are stronger and faster. We return to speaking our beloved Ancient Language, and we are all masters of magic."

Eragon paused and swallowed, the images of his dream dancing before his eyes. "And-and, there was peace," he continued. "I don't know how or why, but there was."

When he finished his retelling, he turned towards Lilathnia. She stared, dazed, at the road ahead of her. "Lilathnia?" Eragon ventured.

She took a deep breath and said without looking at her friend, "Eragon, what you say frightens me. I have this awful, foreboding feeling." She turned suddenly and looked intensely into his eyes. Eragon nearly gasped at her intensity. "You're going to be great one day, Eragon," she continued. "I know it. But great people never stay in one place for long. You will be here one moment and gone the next. And…," she trailed off, looking away.

"And what?" he asked.

"You won't be here anymore. And I-I'll miss you."

She looked shyly back up at him. Eragon couldn't believe what he had just heard. For as long as he could remember, he had liked Lilathnia, but he never imagined in even his wildest dreams that she would like him in return. But before he could answer, someone called his name. They had arrived at the House of the Masters, and a flood of young Elves flowed between their horses, separating him from Lilathnia.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Eragon swung his sword high over his head. Suddenly, he stopped and lowered his sword. On the ground before him, three Elves lay dead, their blood soaking the dark ground. Blood drenched the sword in his hand. _What have I done? _He did not even know who the slaughtered Elves were lying before him. Horrified, Eragon turned and ran._

_Cold and helpless, Eragon stumbled through the dark forest. Strange sounds echoed eerily through the frigid forest air. Eragon shivered and stopped to sit on the truck of a fallen tree. He was alone and cold. THUD. What was that? THUD. Eragon perked his ears. THUD. He knew that sound. THUD. Dragons!_

_Eragon jumped to his feet and ran with all the speed his legs could muster. THUD. The dragon was closing in on him. THUD. Eragon stumbled and fell to the ground. THUD. He scrambled to his feet, glancing over his shoulder. CRASH. The trees of the forest splintered before a mighty blue dragon. SSSHAAA. Eragon felt the heat of the dragon's flame. SSSHAAA. Eragon screamed in pain as the hot flames scorched his back. CRASH. Eragon ran with all his strength. CRASH. He wanted to live. THUD. The forest suddenly ended and a rocky cliff appeared. Eragon couldn't stop. THUD. He leapt and the ground rushed towards him._

Eragon woke with a scream. Breathing heavily, Eragon looked around. He could not believe it had only been a dream. The dead Elves, the blood, the cold, the dragon, and the pain had all seemed so real.

Eragon took a deep breath and struggled to control the emotions swirling within himself. Closing his eyes, he rested his head back against the trunk of the great oak tree. Suddenly, his eyes flew open, studying the sky. The sun was already high in the sky. He was late for his lessons with the Masters!

Eragon scrambled to his feet and quickly mounted Burnac. He had risen early that morning to finish his chores before his classes with the Masters. Since he had finished the chores early, he sat beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the forest near his small, humble home. Without realizing it, he had drifted off to sleep.

Eragon urged his horse into a gallop. Together, they flew over a field and through the forest. Eragon tried to forget his horrid dream as the wind washed over his face and played with his hair. But the memory of his dream still haunted him as he neared Ellesmera.

Humbly, Eragon entered the room full of students sitting on ornately decorated rugs before a tall, proud Elf Master. Eragon always loved this class. He loved sitting on the beautiful rugs, his book open before him, the tall, polished wooden pillars surrounding them, and the sound of his Master's ancient, wise voice ringing in his ear. But today, Eragon knew that his Master would not be pleased.

"Eragon," the Master's voice filled the room. "You are late."

"Yes, Master," Eragon said with a small, respectful bow, offering no explanation. "Please, forgive me."

Eragon expected to hear some punishment bestow upon him for his tardiness, but when the Master said nothing, Eragon hesitantly looked up at his Master.

"Eragon," the Master said slowly, "are you alright?"

Eragon, realizing that he had failed to keep his emotions hidden, swallowed and said, "I am fine, Master."

"Take your seat, Eragon," the Master commanded, not unkindly.

Eragon quickly walked to his seat near Lilathnia and sat down, feeling slightly self-conscious. All eyes were on him, he knew.

Immediately, the students turned back to the Master as he called upon a young Elf to continue the history reading. Lilathnia quickly scratched something onto her parchment. She leaned towards him so he could read what she had written.

_What's wrong? You looked as pale as death when you entered,_ Eragon silently read to himself.

Taking Lilathnia's pen, Eragon wrote, _I had another dream._


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

After a long day's ride, Eragon and his father pulled their horses up before a house that seemed to be carved from the very tree by which it stood.

"Only the palace at the center of Ellesmera, where the King and Queen dwell, surpasses the elegance and sheer beauty of this House of Magicians," Eragon's father said.

As the pair dismounted, two hooded and cloaked Elves stepped forward to take the reins of their horses. Another Elf stood before the closed doors that were carved deep with ancient symbols of the Ancient Language. He was hooded in a long red cloak, his face enveloped in the shadows of the mysterious garment.

"Please, come inside," the cloaked figure said.

Eragon and his father quickly followed. The large sturdy, wooden doors swung open without a sound. Stepping through the doorway and up a staircase, Eragon marveled at the craftsmanship around him. The stairs, like everything else, were an extension of the actual tree and not cut and built as every other building was in DuWeldenvarden. Behind him, Eragon heard his father limping and struggling up the stairs, but he knew better than to stop and help him. He would not take away his father's pride. Besides, his father would only insist that he was, in fact, strong enough to take care of himself.

The hooded Elf led them to a room. Eragon gasped as he walked into the room. Since they had arrived, the house had seemed somehow familiar to him. Now, he realized why. He had dreamt of this house and houses like it. He had told Lilathnia of that dream- the dream of the future of the Elves. In that dream, all Elves lived in houses like this.

On the other side of the room, another Elf sat behind a desk. A scroll lay before him. The Elf was very old. His hair was silvery white and wrinkles appeared around his mouth. He must age near three hundred years, Eragon figured, which was rather old for an Elf. His own father aged just a little over two hundred years.

Looking up from his work, the old Elf stood with no sign of weakness due to old age. " I am Dronuthen, master of this place. Why is it that you have come?" the old Elf asked.

Eragon's father stepped humbly forward and answered, "Master Dronuthen, my son Eragon has had a rather strange dream. I thought it best to bring him here to you. Perhaps, you could share some insight on his dream."

"Very well," The master Elf answered. "Tell me your dream, Eragon," he said, gesturing with a wide sweep of his arm to the two chairs before his desk.

After Eragon finished recounting his dream of the dragon, the old Elf said, "A very fascinating dream, indeed. This is the only dream you have had?"

"No," Eragon hesitatingly answered. His father looked at him, trying to mask his surprise and shock.

"Oh? And how many other dreams have you had?" the master Elf asked.

Eragon hesitated before he answered. "One other," he lied. He could not bring himself to tell of the things he had seen in his last dream.

"And what did you dream?"

Eragon retold his second dream of all the prosperity of the Elves. He also told the Master Elf of the houses he had seen in his dream that looked so much like the one in which they now stood.

"You say you have never seen a place such as this?" the old Elf asked. "Only in your dream?"

"Yes," Eragon answered.

The Master Elf said nothing in reply. Instead, he leaned his elbows on the desk, folded his hands together, and pressed his mouth against his folded hands.

After a moment, he said, "Eragon, I would like to speak with your father alone."

Eragon stood obligingly and obediently walked out of the room. He continued walking down the staircase and out the doors of the grand house. Outside, a strange stone bench beckoned to be sat upon. Eragon tiredly sat, waiting.

Eragon's eyes grew heavy. He couldn't stay awake. Closing his eyes, Eragon let his head droop as a light slumber overtook him.

_Eragon stood in a field, surrounded by tall grasses and bowering flower bushes. Lilathnia spun around in circles, arms outstretched to the sky. She looked strangely older somehow._

_Suddenly, she stopped and said flirtatiously, "Come, Eragon. An Elven maiden cannot dance alone."_

_Eragon bounded to her side. She held out her hand to him, and he gently took it in his own. Liathnia smiled sweetly at him as he twirled her around in circles._

Eragon awoke with a start. Something- not his dream- had awoken him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Sensing someone's presence, Eragon whirled around to find the intruder. Eragon's eyes widened as they fell on an Elf near the same age as himself, cloaked and standing in the shadows of the forest. The Elf starred at him, and something in his look made Eragon feel threatened.

Eragon's father suddenly appeared from behind the door of the grand house, drawing Eragon's attention away from the young Elf's hostile stare. "Come, Eragon. We must go if we are to make it home by nightfall."

Eragon glanced back at the forest, but the young Elf was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_Lilathnia ran ahead of Eragon._

"_Lilathnia, wait!" Eragon called, laughing as he followed her through the forest. But Lilathnia did not slow. Eragon heard her tinkling laughter alone in reply._

_Eragon ran faster, trying to close in on her. THUD. What was that? THUD. Eragon stopped. He saw Lilathnia stop ahead of him, already in the clearing. THUD. As he looked up, his blood ran cold._

_Lilathnia screamed and ran. An enormous emerald green dragon was at her heels, chasing her. Eragon sprinted after her. At the other side of the clearing Eragon saw a young Elf hooded in a cloak, standing and watching._

"_Help her!" Eragon shouted to the Elf as he sprinted over the tall grasses towards Lilathnia and the green dragon. _

_Suddenly, an arrow shot across the field, slicing into Lilathnia. She fell, and the green dragon roared and pounced on her. Eragon's heart ripped in two as he heard the painful screams of his beloved friend._

_The dragon dug its claws into Lilathnia. Eragon screamed at the dragon. As the dragon lifted its head, preparing to deal the final blow that would kill Lilathnia, another arrow shot across the field and into the dragon's exposed chest, embedding deep into the tender flesh between two armor-like scales. With an ear-piercing screech, the mighty dragon fell dead to the ground. _

_Eragon dropped to his knees beside Lilathnia. "Lilathnia," he said to her, gently touching her bloody face. "Lilathnia!" he shouted, gently shaking her. Surely, she could not be dead!_

_Eragon glanced up to see the hooded Elf that had killed the dragon. He and two other Elves bounded from the forest towards the dragon. Each jerked a knife out from beneath their robes. They cut into the dragon, skinning the scales from the hide._

_A realization dawned on Eragon. The arrows had come from the Elf that stood at the edge of the clearing. "You killed her!" he screamed at the hooded Elf. "You heartless cowards!"_

_Eragon jumped to his feet, anger pulsating through his body. With lightening speed, the hooded Elf drew his sword and stood menacingly before Eragon, taunting him to fight._

Eragon woke with a jump. His horse started. Eragon struggled to keep him under control. "Whoa, boy. Easy," he soothed. He and his father were riding, heading for home.

His father chuckled. "Doze off did you, son?" he laughed. "We are almost home."

Eragon looked up through the tree branches at the sky above. The first rays of the morning sun dawned upon the sky. They had ridden through the night. He closed his eyes and shuddered. Such a horrid dream.

_My dreams aren't logical,_ Eragon tried to reason away his awful dream. _In one, Lilathnia dies young, and in another, she is older, alive, and well with me._

Eragon shuddered and prayed that this dream would never come true.

"Eragon?" Eragon's father sounded startled. "Are you alright? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine, father," Eragon reassured his father, swallowing his emotions.

"You didn't have another dream, did you?" his father asked, concerned.

"Father, I'm not sure if my dreams mean anything," Eragon said.

"Nonsense," his father answered seriously. "No Elf ever dreams unless there is something spectacular about him." After a pause, he said, "You have not asked what Master Dronuthen had to say. Would you like to know?" Eragon's father seemed to be trying to hide a smirk.

Eragon nodded.

"Master Dronuthen wants you to become an apprentice to himself," he said proudly.

"What?" Eragon asked, dumbfounded.

"Of course, he wants to further examine you first to know the full extent of your potential before he takes you as his apprentice, but I am sure that he will."

"But, why?" Eragon asked, confused.

"Why!" his father repeated. "You're a very smart Elf, Eragon, but sometimes, I'm not sure what is going on in that head of yours."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Eragon walked out of the Master's class and into the afternoon sunlight. Quickly, Eragon glanced around for Lilathnia, but he didn't see her anywhere. Walking around the side of the Master's house, he stopped short as he heard a voice coming from around the corner

"Why do you hang out with that scrawny Eragon? He's so odd. He has barely a friend in the world and lives with his crazed father," a male voice said.

"If you knew him, you wouldn't say that," he heard Lilathnia's voice. At the sound of her defense, his heart warmed. "Eragon is my friend, and you should be ashamed for insulting him."

Eragon heard her turn away and walk towards where he stood hidden around the corner. Quickly and silently, he turned and slipped away from the House before Lilathnia appeared around the corner. Sprinting, he headed towards the library where they often met after classes.

Skimming over the titles in the great library of Ellesmera, Eragon heard a voice softly call his name. He knew who the voice belonged to even before he turned to see the beautiful, black-haired Elvin maiden walking towards him.

"Sorry it took so long to get here," she apologized. "Farnor held me up."

"Farnor doesn't seem to like me," Eragon stated.

"No," she answered forlornly. "I guess not." She silently glanced over the titles with Eragon. A gleam suddenly sparked in her eyes. "What do you suppose if we searched the ancient scrolls in the back of the library? I think we've read most of these."

"But Lilathnia, we're no allowed to look at those scrolls," Eragon protested. "No one is."

"Come on, Eragon," she said as though she had not heard him.

Eragon was about to protest again, but then, Lilathnia took his hand and lightly pulled him towards the back of the library. Holding her hand, he decided it wouldn't be so bad to follow her.

Strangely, no one was in the library but the two of them. They glided noiselessly to the back of the library and slid open one of the stain-glass doors.

"Just our fortune," Lilathnia said. "There's no one around to see us," she winked.

"Odd that it is not locked," Eragon quietly commented.

Inside the small room, stacks of ancient scrolls lay preserved in glass cases. One case of scrolls caught Eragon's eye. He walked towards it and gently lifted the glass case.

Lilathnia turned from a glass case she was looking at. "What are you doing!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper.

Eragon did not answer, but instead took out one of the scrolls. Gently, Eragon unrolled the scroll.

Looking over his shoulder, Lilathnia said, "It's about Dragons. Read some of it. Your Ancient Language is far better than my own."

Eragon skimmed quickly over the parchment until his eyes fell on a little verse.

He read,

"Out of the ashes of a fallen empire,

Out of the darkness of war,

Through the heat of the dragon's fire,

A bond shall be forged.

A glimmer of hope shall shine,

A flame of peace shall blaze,

Until the start of another age.

"Sounds like a peace of witless poetry," Eragon commented.

"I think it sounds more like a prophecy," Lilathnia challenged.

"Well, whoever wrote it cannot rhyme," Eragon laughed.

"Maybe you're just translating it wrong. Besides, who said prophecies are supposed to rhyme," Lilathnia queried, playfully pushing the parchment out of his hands. "Come, let's see what is in this case," she urged, returning to the case she had been looking at before.

As Eragon carefully rolled the scroll back into its former shape, Lilathnia chose one from her case. Carefully opening the scroll, she said, "I hope your dream comes true—the one where the Elves return to speaking the Ancient Language. It's so much more majestic than the one we speak now." Scanning over the writing, she said, "I think this one is a love story." Slowly, she began to read the story.

As she read, Eragon listened absently and picked up another scroll from his case.

_The story told of a young Elven princess that fell deeply in love with a young, poor Elven artist._

Eragon unrolled the ancient scroll.

_The Elvin princess and the poor Elvin boy met secretly often in an old, abandoned garden._

Some of the print on the scroll was faded. Eragon squinted at the words.

_The secret lovers were discovered one day. The King and Queen forbade their daughter to see the Elvin artist._

They were ancient, forgotten words of magic!

_Soon, war among the Elves tore the lovers further apart._

Eragon slowly, silently sounded out the words to himself, committing them to memory.

_Tragedy befell the two lovers. One day, a great, green Dragon killed the Elvin princess._

Was it still possible to use these words? Could he use them? He was not a magician, after all.

_The princess's lover flew into a rage and swore to kill every Dragon. He led a war party after the Dragons, which started the Great War._

Perhaps Master Dronuthen would know. But perhaps it would be better to keep this a secret. For some inexplicable reason, Eragon did not trust Master Dronuthen.

"The lovers' names were Lilathnia and Drahu," Lilathnia finished the story, a ring of amazement in her voice.

At the sound of Lilathnia's name mentioned in the story, Eragon jerked his head up from the scroll. His dream. The story. Did they have a connection?

"I wonder if the Lilathnia in this story was my namesake," she wondered aloud.

Eragon heard a noise outside the room. Someone was now in the library. The two glanced at each other and quickly slipped from the room and back unnoticed among the stacks and rows of scrolls and books.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

_A great white Dragon stood before Eragon. But Eragon did not move. He did not flinch nor show fear._

"_We must bring peace between the Dragons and the Elves," the Dragon said. Its voice rumbled deeply, but the Dragon's mouth never moved or even opened._

"_They'll never stop. Both sides want blood," Eragon replied._

"_No, we can stop them. They will listen, and we will make peace," the Dragon said._

_Eragon sat down on a log near the edge of the magnificent and scary cliff._

"_Eragon, I believe in you. I knew then just as I know now that you have a great and noble heart. Your kind will listen to you," the Dragon said._

"_I don't want to go back," Eragon said mournfully, placing his hand on the Dragon's white, shimmering scales. "I can't go back."_

Eragon awoke. For a long time, he lay staring at the ceiling, thinking of what the future with all its uncertainty might hold for him. Today, Eragon must go to Master Dronuthen and live at the House of the Magicians with the other students to start his apprenticeship. He would miss his father dearly.

Two hours later, Eragon hugged his father goodbye. "I will miss you, father," Eragon said sadly.

Tears welled up in the old Elf's eyes as he struggled to control his emotions. "You'll be alright," the old Elf said, more to himself that to Eragon. "You'll go far, my son. I know I'll be proud of you."

Eragon mounted his horse and trotted away, a melancholy mood setting over him.

"Farewell, my son," his father whispered.

Near Ellesmera, Lilathnia joined Eragon for part of his journey through the city.

"Eragon, you look tired," she said. "Sad to be leaving home?"

"Yes," Eragon nodded. "And I've been having more dreams."

"More dreams? About what?" she asked eagerly.

"I'd rather not talk about them," Eragon sad tersely, remembering his dream of Lilathnia's death.

"Are they bad?" she asked quietly.

"Some," Eragon answered vaguely. By the tone of his voice, Lilathnia knew not to press him.

As they rode into Ellesmera, the two friends noticed a commotion. Elves ran about the city, yelling and cheering. "What's going on?" Lilathnia wondered aloud.

As they rode nearer the scene at the center of Elllesmera, Eragon saw what had caused the commotion. A dead and skinned dragon lay in the middle of the road. Lilathnia and Eragon glanced at each other. Battles would rage over this.

Eragon felt sick as he watched the scene. Elves circled the Dragon, calling to one another and throwing and trading portions of the Dragon's scales. They danced around the dead Dragon and drank their precious wines in celebration. They were happy that a Dragon had been killed.

"How barbaric," Eragon said before he realized he had spoken.

Lilathnia turned towards him, a shocked expression on her face. They were at war with the Dragons. Every Dragon killed, especially if brought into the city, was cause to celebrate.

Eragon noticed a hooded Elf standing on top of the skinned Dragon, arrogantly telling his story with flare of how he brought down the mighty Dragon. As he turned, Eragon realized that it was the same Elf that had stared so threateningly at him at Master Dronuthen's.

"That's Farnor," Lilathnia said with surprise. "He's another of Master Dronuthen's pupils. He's always been so jealous of you."

Looking at the dead Dragon, Eragon sickened again at the sight. For a reason he could not explain, pity welled inside of him. He could not understand why. Were the Dragons not their enemy?

"Let's go," Eragon said suddenly. "There's nothing to see here."

The two friends rode away from the commotion and through the rest of Ellesmera in silence.

As they neared the outskirts of the city where Eragon and Lilathnia were to part, Eragon asked, "Why is Farnor so jealous of me? I didn't know who he was until today and have only seen him once or twice before."

"Just because you don't know who he is doesn't mean he doesn't know who you are," she said. "And he's jealous of you because-"

"Because why?" Eragon prompted after she hesitated.

"Because I like you and not him," she replied.

Before Eragon could reply or react, she leaned over, kissed him quickly on the cheek, and swiftly turned and kicked her horse into a gallop.

Words finally came to Eragon as he blushed deeply. "Wait," he called. "Will you meet me here again in a few days?"

She stopped her horse long enough to turn and say, "Yes!" before she turned and urged her horse into a gallop.

Eragon smiled joyfully as he watched Lilathnia's vanishing form.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Eragon," Master Dronuthen said, annoyance sounding in his voice. "It is imperative that you tell us all your dreams. It is the only way that we can understand what they mean."

In the last two weeks that Eragon had lived in the House of the Magicians, he had grown weary and mistrustful of Master Dronuthen. Something about him made him seem manipulative and greedy to him. Eragon did not wish to tell this Elf his dreams, and he refused to do so.

Eragon could see the anger burning within Master Dronuthen's eyes, but the old Master did very well to hide his anger. "Well, perhaps when you have grown to trust me more, you will tell me your dreams," the old Elf suggested. "You may go now."

Eragon stood and bowed politely to the Master. Eragon knew that Master Dronuthen would not have been nearly so patient had he not thought him to be a very promising pupil.

Eragon quickly left the House and mounted his horse Burnac. He urged his horse into a gallop, and together they swept across the land. Eragon could not wait to see Lilathnia again.

Eragon arrived at their meeting place in the forests bordering Ellesmera to find Lilathnia already there. He quickly dismounted and hurried to where she was sitting. Lilathnia stood quickly as soon as she caught sight of him.

"How goes your lessons with Master Dronuthen?" she asked, sitting down on the rock again. Eragon quickly sat very close to her.

"I don't trust him," Eragon said sincerely and frankly.

Lilathnia gave him a look of pity. "And how goes your classes with the Masters?" Eragon asked in return.

"Nice, as always," she answered, "though it isn't quite the same without you." Eragon starred at Lilathnia. Could a creature any sweeter or any lovelier exist than her?

Lilathnia blushed, smiling under his stare, and looked away.

"Lilathnia," Eragon said softly. When she turned to face him, Eragon leaned in quickly and kissed her on the lips. His heart pounded. The scent of her hair, the touch of her soft lips was intoxicating.

Suddenly, Lilathnia pulled away, jumped up, and ran from him. Startled, Eragon starred after her until she looked back with a mischievous grin and the tinkling of her sweet laughter reached his ears. She knew exactly how to tease and play with him. Eragon bounded to his feet and ran after her.

"Lilathnia, wait up!" Eragon called after her. He could hear only the tinkling of her laughter in reply.

Eragon ran faster, determined to catch up to her. Ahead of him, he saw, Lilathnia emerged from the forest and into a field clearing.

THUD.

Both Eragon and Lilathnia stopped and listened in growing horror. Eragon looked up and saw a streak of emerald green flash across the sky above the treetops.

"No!" Eragon screamed, remembering his dream.

Lilathnia screamed and ran across the grassy field with all the speed that she could muster. Eragon sprinted after her. Across the field, a figure stood draped in a cloak.

"Help her!" Eragon screamed helplessly. "Help her!" he repeated desperately.

Suddenly, Lilathnia veered to the left, trying to avoid the Dragon's claws, and an arrow shot across the field and pieced her chest.

"No!" Eragon screamed, once more remembering his dream.

Lilathnia stumbled, and the Dragon pounced on her. A scream escaped from Lilathnia as she struggled, pinned beneath the Dragon's mighty claw. Eragon's heart broke as he helplessly ran with all his might towards her. He couldn't reach her in time.

"Get away from her!" Eragon screamed at the dragon, hopeless and full of rage.

As the Dragon reared for another swipe of his claws at Lilathnia, the Dragon paused and turned its head to look at Eragon. It seemed to have heard and understood what he said, and its green eyes seemed to pierce into Eragon's very soul. Suddenly, an arrow shot across the grassy field and pierced the Dragon's chest between two weak scales.

With a final roar, the Dragon fell dead to the ground. Eragon ran to Lilathnia and dropped to his knees beside her.

"Lilathnia," he whispered, gently touching her bloody face. "Lilathnia!" he shouted, gently shaking her, trying desperately to wake her. But Lilathnia did not stir.

The hooded Elf and two other Elves, near the same age as Eragon, bounded from the forest, jerking concealed knives from beneath their long robes to skin the dragon. The hooded Elf carried a bow.

"You killed her!" Eragon screamed in rage at the hooded Elf.

"No," the hooded figure answered. "You killed her. That arrow was meant for you."

Then Eragon remembered how Lilathnia had swerved suddenly to avoid the Dragon. She had unknowingly stepped into the arrows path. The arrow that was meant for him struck her.

"Who are you?" Eragon demanded.

The Elf threw back his hood. Eragon gasped at the sight of Farnor. "You took her from me," he said maliciously. "I merely returned the favor."

"You'll never get away with murder," Eragon said.

"We will if you're not alive to tell anyone," Farnor said, drawing his sword. His two companions helped to circle Eragon, surrounding him. Afraid, Eragon drew his sword.

"To the death," Farnor said. Then, he struck at Eragon.

Eragon parried the blow. Quickly, he swirled around to block the blows from the other two Elves. He knew he could never win.

Suddenly, though, everything seemed to be in slow motion to Eragon. Farnor and his henchmen moved slowly and laboriously. The sword in Eragon's hand grew lighter as he swung it around and above his head, blocking and retuning blows.

Eragon swiftly struck at Farnor and the other two Elves. Eragon felt his sword meet flesh.

Blinking, Eragon stepped back. Three Elves lay dead on the ground before him. His sword was soaked in blood. A terrible feeling crept over him. And to his right, Lilathnia lay dead.

Knowing not what to do, Eragon turned and ran. He ran with terror in his veins for what he had done. He ran with sadness in his heart for the death of Lilathnia. He ran with fear in his mind of what dreams would come true next. And he ran with sorrow in his soul for his loss of innocence and boyhood.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Eragon's father looked up, surprised to see his son standing in the doorway.

"Son, what is it? What is wrong?" the old Elf had never seen his son look so distraught.

"Father," Eragon sobbed, "forgive me."

Eragon stepped through the doorway, his bloodied sword in his hand.

"What have you done?" his father asked in horror.

Eragon dropped the sword and fell to his knees, burying his head in his father's lap and sobbing.

After a moment, Eragon's father lifted his son's head and demanded, "Eragon, what happened?"

Tears streamed down his son's face as he slowly recounted the story to his father. "I killed them in self-defense," Eragon cried, "and they killed Lilathnia."

"Oh, my son," the old Elf cried aloud. "What cruelty has befallen you?" The old Elf wrapped his arms around his son, allowing his son the one and only time to cry. Eragon's heart had been torn in two and his innocence ripped from him, the old Elf knew.

"Come, my son. Lay on the bed awhile. Sleep will help you forget for a little while," the old Elf said, leading his to his own bed and humming an ancient song to sooth him into sleep.

An hour later, pounding sounded on the door. Eragon lay in a fitful sleep on the small cot in the kitchen. Eragon's father rose slowly to answer the door. Four tall Royal Elvin Guards stood before the door.

"We have come to take Eragon, son of Elor, prisoner for the murders of Lilathnia, Farnor, Letro, and Simonca," one of the four Guards said.

"What treason is this? My son murdered no Elf save in defense of himself and Lilathnia!" the old Elf objected.

"We are here upon the King's orders," the first Guard said, pushing past the old Elf to where Eragon lay. Grabbing hold of his arms, two of the Guards jerked Eragon to his feet, waking him instantly.

Eragon, son of Elor, you are arrested for the charge of murder of Lilathnia, Farnor, Le-"

"I didn't kill Lilathnia! I could never harm her! Farnor killed her and the dragon! I swear it!" Eragon protested.

"Be silent!" the Guard commanded as they bound his hands and drug him from the house.

"No!" Eragon shouted. "Father, I swear this isn't true!"

"I know, Eragon," the old Elf called after, desperately trying to follow. "I believe you! I'm so sorry," he whispered mournfully.

The four Guards drug Eragon to Ellesmera. As they ushered him through the streets of the city to the palace and court of the King and Queen, the Elves throughout Ellesmera stopped to watch and silently glare at the passing prisoner. Eragon remembered his dream of Elven prosperity, but how could these hateful people ever live as they had in his dream?

They entered the grand hall of the palace, and the Guards threw Eragon to his knees. Suddenly, Eragon found himself kneeling before King Ceranthor and Queen Tarmunora in the grand hall. Never before in his life had Eragon seen the King and Queen, and now he stood before them under the charge of murder.

"Eragon, son of Elor, rise," commanded Queen Tarmunora. Eragon obeyed and slowly rose to his feet. "You are charged with the murder of four Elves. The punishment for such a crime is death."

"I did not murder them," protested Eragon, "least of all Lilathnia. Farnor killed her. Then, he and the others tried to kill me. In self-defense, I fought and killed them."

"Silence!" roared the King. "With his dying breath Farnor told of your betrayal and of how you deceived and killed all four of them. He also said that you were in league with this dragon, and later slew it yourself. But by what dark magic you do this, we do not know. And Master Dronuthen has already testified to your questionable behavior."

"It his Farnor's word against Eragon's, your Majesties," Eragon's father said in his defense as he entered the palace hall, wheezing and struggling for breath. "There is no real proof of what either of them says. Death cannot be his punishment in such a case!"

Murmurs of agreement ran through the hall.

"Silence!" the Queen commanded. Standing, she proclaimed, "Eragon, son of Elor, you are hereby banished from Ellesmera, DuWeldenvarden, and the surrounding realm of the Elves. If you return, you shall be killed. If any Elf in DuWeldenvarden aids Eragon, son of Elor, the crime shall be also punishable by death."

The four Guards seized Eragon's arms and pushed him out of the grand palace hall.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Eragon stumbled through the dense forest. A chill wind brushed over him. He shivered. The young, once highly praised Elf was now an outcast.

Eragon felt numb. How could so many bad things happen in such a short time? How could a life change in an instant? Eragon pushed on, placing one foot in front of the other. He did not know what else to do. He did not know where he was or where he was going. But he knew he must push on, keep walking, and get away from what he left behind.

Thoughts of his father rushed to his mind. His father's stricken face. His bowed, withered body. How would he survive without Eragon?

Images of Lilathnia came suddenly, unbidden to his mind. He remembered her touch, the sweet smell of her hair, the teasing in her laughter. How could she be gone? More than anything, Eragon wanted to sit on the rock close to her, telling her of his tedious lessons with Master Dronuthen. A shiver ran up Eragon's spine. She was gone forever.

Cold and helpless, Eragon stumbled through the forest. Three days ago, the Royal Guards had led him, bound and afraid, to the edge of the DuWeldenvarden forest. Three days he traveled. Three days without food. Three days without water. He was now in the heart of the forests and valleys bordering the Spine Mountains. What dark tales had been told about the Spine! Legends and stories of lost Elves, charred and murdered for trespassing into the lands of the Dragons, haunted the dreams of young Elves. What tales had been spun! Eragon was alone, and he was not among friends. _No,_ he thought, _I have not a friend in the world._

Weary and tired, Eragon stopped and sat on a log. The moss on the decaying bark felt gross to the touch- so unlike the things Eragon felt and saw in DuWeldenvarden. This place was so cold… so alien.

Eragon sagged and hunched over, cowering into his thin shirt for a little warmth. Nothing could describe the sorrow Eragon felt, but no tears came. No tears would ever come again. How could the numbness he felt ever leave him?

THUD. What was that? Eragon perked his ears. THUD. He knew that sound. THUD. Dragons!

Eragon jumped to his feet and ran with all the speed his legs could muster. THUD. The dragon was closing in. THUD. Eragon stumbled and fell to the ground. THUD. He scrambled to his feet, glancing over his shoulder. CRASH. The trees of the forest splintered before the fierce force of a mighty blue dragon. SSSHHAAA. Eragon felt the heat of the dragon's flame on his back. SSSHHAAA. Eragon screamed as a hot, piercing pain shot up his back. CRASH. Eragon ran with all his strength. CRASH. He wanted to live. THUD.

The forest suddenly ended and the edge of a precarious cliff appeared. Eragon couldn't stop. To stop meant death. THUD. His heart pounded. He leapt. A rush of wind hit Eragon in his face as he plummeted down the side of the cliff.

CRASH. Eragon fell onto an outcropping. He felt his bones break. But he was moving too quickly. He rolled, falling, hitting small, jagged outcroppings on the side of the cliff. CRACK. A small tree splintered in his wake. CRACK. Eragon's ribs met the rocks with a jolt.

BOOM. Eragon landed hard. The air left his lungs. He gasped for breath, looking up into the sky from whence he had fallen. Turning his head to one side, he felt the blood trickle across his face. His vision blurred. His eyes darkened.

But before the world became black, Eragon saw the blue sky stretching out before him and a white shimmer blocking his view of the distant horizon.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

A coolness swept over Eragon as he slept. Icy raindrops slowly tormented him in his pain. A putrid smell wafted through the air around him. Awakening, he opened his eyes, squinting up at the far away, storm-cloudy sky and the rain that splattered down upon him. Each icy drop brought a piercing pain in his torn and battered body, each drop a needle piecing his flesh.

Rolling painfully onto his side, Eragon groaned. The burning, blistering pain in his back took his breath away.

A shimmer of white danced across Eragon's vision. Startled, Eragon focused his eyes on the object that lay before him. It was an egg! The most gloriously white egg Eragon had ever seen lay before him, but in his delirium, he could not distinguish what animal it contained.

_Where is the mother?_ Eragon wondered groggily. "You are just as helpless as I," he deliriously whispered to the egg.

Something deep within himself reached out for this lone egg. He pitied this lonely, unborn creature that lay dormant in its white encasement. It had no mother, it seemed, to keep it warm and watch over it, waiting patiently and excitedly for it to hatch. No creature should be robbed of such a thing. For an odd, unknown reason, Eragon felt the desire to protect it.

Crawling slowly towards it, Eragon groaned in pain and discomfort as his muscles rippled under his wounded back. He shivered from the pain and the cold. Slowly, to not stretch his burnt back, Eragon wrapped himself protectively around the egg, warming and shielding it like a mother from the cold, harsh elements.

In his exhaustion, Eragon fell back into a deep sleep. And he dreamt a very strange dream.

_SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! Eragon shuddered at the sound. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! Eragon's ears ached. What was that sound? Where did it come from? SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! Eragon turned around. A creature, a thing like a phantom from some lonely night's dream, loomed from out of the mists. It was a Fanghur!_

_Eragon gazed in wonder at the sight. Behind the Fanghur, more followed closely behind. This was a rare sight indeed! Fanghurs were said to be afraid of Elves. _

_Eragon remembered the stories that his father had told him, stories of another creature that was also enemies with the Dragons. The Masters had called them the Tormentors of Dragons, for that is what they loved to do- torment the Dragons. They looked exactly like miniature dragons except that their bodies and tails were longer, like an eel's. And they moved-flew-from side to side like an eel. The effect was eerie and disconcerting for their prey._

_SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! Eragon covered his ears with his hands. The sound was terrible. It was almost deafening. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! The Fanghurs veered towards him. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! They looked threatening. Surely they wouldn't attack an Elf! Eragon did not move. SSSSKKKKAAAAAKKKK!_

_THAWP! Something rammed into his back. He tumbled to the ground. A Fanghur had attacked him from behind. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! In an instant, they were upon him, clawing him, scratching at him, biting him with their sharp fangs. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! Eragon couldn't understand. He tried to fight them, push them away from him, hit them back, but they were too powerful and too many in number. _

_SSSSKKKAAAAKKKK! They seemed as if they didn't want to eat him but rather to simply kill him. What magic was this that a Fanghur would dare to attack an Elf, let alone approach one? _

_Ergaon struggled helplessly against their ferocity. Crying out for help, Eragon feared that the Fanghurs would kill him and tear him to pieces before any help could come._

_BOOM. The Fangurs dove at him. BOOM. The air around them vibrated. BOOM. The Fanghurs paused their attach in fear. BOOM. The creatures looked towards the sky, silent in their boding fear. A roar split through the silence. A white streak flashed down from the sky. SSSSHHHHAAAA! Flames licked the air around the Fanghurs. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! The Fanghurs leapt into the air. SSSSHHHHHAAAA! Flames engulfed the Fanghurs._

_Eragon leapt to his feet and ran. He staggered. The world spun around him. His vision blurred. He had lost much blood in the attack. _

"_Eragon!" a deep voice resonated. _

_Eragon stumbled and fell. The world darkened around him as he faded into unconsciousness._

_Eragon awoke. He lay on soft covers. A sweet scent flitted to his nose. A soft light filtered through a nearby window. A light breeze tickled his cheek._

_Eragon's vision cleared. His breath caught in his throat. His heart leapt. Lilathnia stood over him. _

"_Lilathnia," Eragon whispered. She smiled down at him, her hair flowing gently around her face and over her shoulders. "Am I dead?" Her lips parted. She laughed gently. "Am I dreaming?" he asked barely above a whisper._

SQUEAK! Eragon started awake. SQUEAK! The sound was so loud that Eragon thought his ears would burst. SQUEAK. Something small and sharp jabbed Eragon in the ribs. With a startled cry, Eragon jumped back from where he lay.

SQUEAK! Where the white egg had been, white shards lay scattered around a small, white creature. Rising up in its hind legs and spreading its leathery wings, the white creature let out a fierce cry.

Eragon's blood ran cold. It was a Dragon!


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Eragon's mind raced. He was in a helpless condition, and the little creature before him cried out fiercely and incessantly. If the tiny creature had a mother, it would hear and return to slaughter him, doubtlessly tearing him to pieces and feeding him to the little, fierce critter.

"Shhh, Little One," Eragon tried desperately to sooth the small creature.

The baby dragon rose his head and screeched angrily at Eragon.

Eragon glanced quickly around him. The putrid smell was coming from small, dead game carcasses spread around the small outcropping. Doubtlessly, the mother left this for the dragon when it hatched. Some were still of a fresh kill. But where was the mother? A shiver of fear ran up Eragon's spine.

As Eragon inched slowly away from the fierce baby dragon, he remembered one of his old Masters saying that, according to legend, a dragon understood the Ancient Language of the Elves. Some of the students had snickered at this, Eragon remembered, for popular belief held that dragons were mindless, stupid, and bloodthirsty animals.

Eragon tried this new tactic. "Shhh, Little One," he repeated in the Ancient Language. "I am a friend."

Eragon touched a bloody carcass. Repulsed, he picked it up and offered it to the doubtlessly hungry dragon. Ferociously, the little dragon leapt onto the carcass in Eragon's hands and sunk its teeth deep into the dead animal. Startled, Eragon cried out and dropped the carcass and the little dragon. He watched in amazement as the dragon devoured the dead creature.

To Eragon's horror, the dragon then approached him, licking its jaws from its satisfying meal. Eragon shrank back, but the little dragon approached him boldly and jumped onto Eragon's chest. It looked deeply into Eragon's eyes. Then, he turned in a circle and curled up on the young elf's chest.

The baby dragon was surprisingly warm. Eragon had always imagined them as cold. Hesitantly, he put his arm around the little creature and curled into a ball to try and keep warm. Eragon forced himself to remain calm. Soon he heard the gentle humming of the little dragon as it slept. Once again, Eragon felt deeply exhausted. Slowly, he too fell into a fitful sleep.

A few short hours later, Eragon awoke with a start. He was not sure what had awoken him, but a freezing drizzle of rain was falling from the sky. The elf shivered violent. The baby dragon still slept peacefully on his chest.

Slowly, so as not to disturb the sleeping dragon, Eragon lifted the little dragon in his hands and set him on the ground beside him. The dragon stirred, but did not wake.

Eragon rolled onto his hands and knees, his body shaking violently from cold and pain. Slowly, he crept to the ledge of the outcropping and looked down. His head spun and his vision blurred. It was a long way down. A VERY long way down. How would he ever get off of the outcropping? Surely, he would die now.

SQUEAK. Eragon turned. The baby dragon was on its feet, walking clumsily towards him and tripping because of its overly big, paper-thin wings. SQUEAK. Instinctively, Eragon reached his hand out to it.

The dragon touched its warm nose lightly to his outstretched hand. The baby dragon's eyes seemed to turn from the hard white stone into a floating sea covered in the mysterious white foam that was always on the crest of the waves. Eragon didn't understand the change at first. Suddenly, he felt as though he was among the waves of the sea, floating and being tossed by the waves. The tide was strong and violent, but it never pulled him under nor did he even come near to drowning.

Eragon jerked away from the touch of the dragon. The dragon hummed as if amused.

Eragon felt different. He stood suddenly, stretching his arms and legs. He felt better. Not strong, but definitely better. Looking down at himself, he gasped. His wounds—the deep gashes, the painful bruises—were gone.

Looking down at the little dragon, he stammered, "H-how did you do that?"

The dragon hummed to itself. Eragon thought it sounded almost like laughter. He watched, fascinated, as the little dragon purposefully turned away from him and curled up into a ball again, determined to sleep again.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Fly, Little One, Fly!" Eragon yelled in the Ancient Language to the little white Dragon in his arms. In the past week, the baby Dragon had grown quickly.

"Fly, Little One!"

The white Dragon flapped its leathery, white wings, trying desperately to lift into the air.

"You can do it, Little One!" Eragon encouraged.

Suddenly, without warning, Eragon threw the little white beast into the air. With a fearful squeak, the little Dragon flapped its wings, determined to fly. Eragon felt a sudden pang of fear—afraid that at any moment the little Dragon would crash back into the earth. But a strong wind blew and caught its wings. The little Dragon slowly rose into the sky.

"That's it, Little One!" the young Elf joyfully leapt around in a circle.

The little Dragon cried out in its own joy and circled far above Eragon. The young Elf strained his eyes, squinting to see the far away flying Dragon. His keen eyes followed the Dragon as it flexed and stretched its wings taunt. Though little, the dragon was powerful, and would become even more powerful as it grew. Eragon could imagine what the dragon would look like, its majestic size, its grand muscles—like a live, breathing, perfect sculpture. And this powerful creature would be his pet, his companion.

A second pang of fear wrenched Eragon's stomach. What if the little Dragon, now free of him, would fly away free, back to his own kind? Eragon would be alone again. He could not bear the thought. Relief filled him as the little Dragon continued to circle far above.

Suddenly, the Dragon veered downward, folding in its wings and diving straight towards Eragon. Eragon held out his arms invitingly for the young Dragon, but the little creature did not slow. Instead, it picked up speed, diving faster and faster. Before Eragon could react, the Dragon plowed into his chest, knocking him off his feet and onto the ground.

"Little One!" Eragon exclaimed angrily, sitting up and rubbing his bruised chest.

The little Dragon hopped on its small, clawed feet, squeaking and flapping its wings comically.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were laughing at me!" Eragon said, laughing.

The little Dragon turned its head and looked keenly at the young Elf. A mischievous, intelligent gleam glittered in its eyes. The gleam jolted Ergaon. The little Dragon looked nothing like a stupid beast at that moment.

"I should give you a name," Eragon pronounced suddenly. "'Little One' isn't a very good name. Besides, you soon will no longer be little." He grew pensive, endeavoring to think of an adequate and worthy name. "Your name shall be…" Eragon paused, "Bid'Daum." It meant 'Bright Dream.'

The little Dragon nodded its head deeply as if agreeing and accepting the name. Eragon felt a strange strain of approval dance through his mind. The Elf shook his head, dismissing the idea. He was just imagining things.

"Then, Bid'Daum your name shall be," Eragon declared. "Come Bid'Daum, let us go hunt. I am starving."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"Bid'Daum!" Eragon called. "Bid'Daum!"

Over an hour earlier, Eragon and Bid'Daum had left to go hunting. Bid'Daum had dove after a prey out of Eragon's sight. Eragon had waited and waited, but Bid'Daum had not yet returned. A ravenous hunger was stirring in Eragon's stomach. His patience was dwindling. Bid'Daum hadn't brought anything back.

"Bid'Daum!" An anger rose within Eragon towards the white dragon. He wanted food too.

Eragon walked forward into the dense forest in search of the little dragon. After searching for a long time, Eragon stumbled upon Bid'Daum, devouring a small prey. Hunger twisted Eragon's stomach.

"Bid'Daum!" he chided. "I send you to hunt for the both of us, and you keep it all for yourself!"

The dragon turned and growled. The growl was rather menacing. Bid'Daum now reached the height of Eragon's chest. If Eragon hadn't been so hungry, he may have felt very intimidated. For some strange reason, Eragon was sure he could actually, palpably feel the anger seething from the dragon, as though the anger was his own. In the back of his mind, Eragon told himself that he was being irrational. But the rest of him did not care. And his stomach cared the least. Eragon was hungry.

"You selfish animal!" he growled back.

Faster than a flash of lightning, Bid'Daum swiped his claw across Eragon's chest. Eragon jumped back, a startled cry escaping his lips, and fell to the ground. Blood gushed from three long scratches, soaking the front of his already dirty and soiled shirt.

As Bid'Daum glared at Eragon, a jolt of fear shot through him. After all, Bid'Daum was already a dragon. Weren't all dragons wild and unpredictable? He was a fool to think otherwise, to think that this was different.

Something strange reflected in Bid'Daum's eyes. But before Eragon could identify what it was, Bid'Daum's muscles bunched, and he sprang into the air. In merely seconds, he soared out of sight.

Eragon felt the sudden loss. Bid'Daum was his only companion, though a wild dragon, a dumb and vicious creature of the wild. A fierce loneliness crept over Eragon.

Leaping to his feet, he cried, "Bid'Daum! Come back! Please!" Eragon pleaded. "I'm sorry! Come back—"

He choked the last words out. What if Bid'Daum refused to come back? A friend—an only friend—would be lost and another enemy made. Eragon fell to his knees, weeping for his lost friend.

Soon, however, hunger drove him on to hunt. Suddenly, he realized just how much he had come to rely on Bid'Duam. Eragon had no claws, no sharp teeth, no weapons save for a poorly made bow. Bid'Daum had everything—even flight.

Stumbling through the woods, Eragon felt much like he had that first day of his banishment. Lonely. Helpless. Afraid. His thoughts drifted back to Lilathnia. Feverishly, he pushed the thoughts away. The images of her bloody, lifeless face was too much, especially in the wake of his new loss of Bid'Daum. Could he hold on to nothing good?

Without realizing where he was, Eragon pushed through a veil of branches and brush. Amongst a group of brushes, a huge wild boar lay lazily. Catching the scent of the young Elf, the boar snorted and rolled to its feet. Eragon's eyes widened in fear. The wild boar could easily skewer him on one of its large, sharp tusks.

_Eragon!_ he heard a deep, rumbling voice call.

The wild boar stomped its hoof. Then, without further warning, it charged. Eragon turned and ran. Being skewered to death by a wild boar wasn't exactly his idea of a romantic death.

Eragon tripped and stumbled. Taking advantage of the moment, the boar slammed into Eragon with the side of its boy, causing the young Elf to fall to the ground, rolling into the dense ferns. The boar ran past, stopped, and turned to charge again.

Eragon couldn't act fast enough. He starred in mute horror as the wild boar barreled down on him.

_Eragon!_ the same deep voice yelled, frantic.

A loud roar stopped the boar in its tracks. It snorted in fear. A brilliant flash of white hit into the boar. Frantic squeals of fear and pain filled the air.

"Bid'Daum!" Eragon recognized, an overwhelming feeling of relief, gratitude, and… love… all mixed into one.

In a moment, Bid'Daum stood over the dead body of the boar.

Eragon crept forward. "Bid'Daum?"

_Eragon,_ a deep, resounding voice answered. Eragon spun around. Where had the voice come from? _Eragon,_ the voice said again.

The young Elf spun back around.

"Bid'Daum?" he breathed in disbelief.

A strong sense of amusement flowed from the white dragon.

"You came back," Eragon smiled. It had been so long since he had smiled.

Bid'Daum hummed in reply, a deep rumbling issuing from his chest.

Hunger once again gnawed in Eragon' stomach. The wild boar meat suddenly seemed so amazingly appealing. The Elves had always abhorred boar meat. They hated the taste. But Eragon's own hunger, combined with a feeling of hunger emanating from the young dragon, made him creep forward to gut the boar.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Eragon starred into the blazing fire, content after the filling meal. Bid'Daum sat close beside him, also gazing intently into the fire. Dark shadows danced around them in the fire's light.

The young Elf contemplated what had happened earlier. _Bid'Daum speaks. A dragon can speak._ It did not make sense. All his life, he had been influenced by the prejudices of the Elves against dragons. To the Elves, dragons were merely mindless, vicious animals. To think otherwise was madness. Yet here, next to Eragon, sat a dragon that was contrary to all these beliefs. A paradox.

"Bid'Daum?" Eragon broke the silence.

_Yes?_ his deep voice answered.

"You speak?"

Bid'Daum rolled his eyes, angered and annoyed by his ignorant question. _Are you still so ignorant?_

"How long have you been able to speak?" Eragon asked curiously.

_Well, it's been hard to learn your Ancient Language,_ Bid'Daum answered. _And technically, I cannot speak—not like you in any case. You don't have to speak aloud, you know,_ Bid'Daum chuckled—or at least, a rumbling sound came from his chest in a close approximation of a chuckle.

A perplexed looked etched itself across Eragon's face.

_Think, Eragon,_ Bid'Daum commanded. His voice rumbled deeply. His voice sounded more like it was inside Eragon's mind.

_I must be going crazy_, Eragon thought. _Hearing voices._

_You're not crazy._

Eragon jumped. Bid'Daum had answered his unspoken question.

_You can hear my thoughts?_ Eragon asked without opening his mouth to speak.

Eragon could feel Bid'Daum's amusement.

Suddenly, everything the Masters—specifically his least favorite Master Dronuthen—had taught him returned to his mind. Everything about magic. About communicating with the mind. About protecting the mind from outside attackers. It had all seemed so bizarre to Eragon then. But everything fell into place now.

Eragon sat quietly for a while before he said, _Sorry for my behavior earlier. I was wrong and harsh._

_I'm sorry I scratched you._ Bid'Daum shifted uneasily. _Are you alright?_

_Yes, I'm fine. You didn't get too deep,_ Eragon assured him.

Bid'Daum hummed in reply.

_Why did you come back?_ Eragon asked, quietly. _I mean, I thought you'd left me forever. But you came back._

_Sometimes your temper is very short. It is something you must work on. You let your feelings cloud your judgement. But regardless, you are still the only person I know. I don't want you to die, not when I have the power to save you,_ Bid'Daum answered.

_Even if I am crazy, I'm glad you're here, Bid'Daum,_ Eragon said, reaching out his hand and patting Bid'Daum's side. _You're the only friend in the world that I have._

_And you mine,_ the white dragon solemnly replied.

Their gazes had never left the fire during their entire conversation, and they continued to stare into the fire in a peaceful silence.

Shadows continued to dance around them, cast from the fire's light. Sparks shot into the air from the fire, competing with the dancing shadows. But Eragon and Bid'Daum sat quietly. Each finally had a trustworthy companion. Neither would ever be alone again.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

_Come on Eragon_, Bid'Daum urged. _Since when did you become such a coward?_ Bid'Daum chuckled in his strange, Dragon way, his chest rumbling deeply.

_I really don't think it's such a great idea_, Eragon replied, trying to sound rational. _And what if one of your neck spikes goes through my eye?_ He asked, eyeing the ivory white spikes protruding from Bid'Daum's spine.

Bid'Daum rolled his eyes_. That won't happen. I won't let anything happen to you. Now, climb onto my back!_ he commanded.

Eragon finally gave up his stubbornness and climbed onto Bid'Daum's back by grasping one of Bid'Daum's neck spikes and quickly pulling himself up to settle uneasily in the make-shift deer hide saddle. Eragon squinted up at the yellow rising sun, fidgeting with nervousness in his seat.

_Hang on_, Bid'Daum warned, a mischievous hint in his mental voice.

Bid'Daum's leg muscles bunched beneath him, like a wound up spring ready to be loosed. His claws dug deep into the dry, rocky earth. Eragon's stomach lurched. Without warning, Bid'Daum leapt into the air.

Eragon gasped. The wind swept violently over him, lashing his hair and whipping it into his face. The ground and treetops below quickly faded away as Bid'Daum beat his wings against the air and rose higher and higher.

Bid'Daum spread his tawny wings. Eragon could sense the Dragon's deep sense of freedom and feelings of release. Bid'Daum flapped his wings powerfully, swiftly raising higher.

_Relax, Eragon. Enjoy the ride. You are perhaps the first Elf ever to ride a Dragon_, Bid'Daum reminded him affectionately.

Eragon gulped. _The ground is so far below us._

_Relax_, Bid'Daum soothed.

Eragon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The wind whipped through his hair and slapped his cheeks.

_Let me show you how I really fly._

Eragon opened his eyes. The world looked strangely white, as though everything was covered in a veil of snow. Only, there was no snow. Eragon stretch out his arms, feeling his muscles tighten and release as they moved up and down.

_Move up and down_! Eragon realized.

Turning his head and expecting to see Bid'Daum's wing, he gasped when he saw the underside of the Dragon's wing.

_What in the name of_—, he started.

Looking down, Eragon suddenly realized that there was nothing beneath him, nothing between him and the ground far below.

_Bid'Daum_! he screamed with his mind.

A dark chuckle sounded in his mind.

Eragon swirled his head around and saw, as a mirror reflection, himself riding on Bid'Daum's back. Comprehension filled Eragon. He turned his head back around to look straight ahead at the distant horizon. A flood of enthusiasm flowed through him. He flapped his wings, his muscles—or was it Bid'Daum's, for who was who anymore?—bunching and stretching with the movement. The wind felt pleasant, rushing over his body. Opening his mouth, he roared, a deep rumble starting from within his chest, racing up his throat, and erupting from between his sharp-teeth filled jaws.

Time seemed to stand still. Shifting his wings, Ergaon flew east towards the rising morning sun. His white vision blended with the brilliant yellow, the brilliance dazzling Eragon. Were the seconds minutes? The hours seconds? What was time? It didn't make sense flying in this new world of white and yellow vortex light.

Finally, after an interminable amount of time, Eragon closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he was himself again—normal eyesight, the air amazingly cold to his exposed skin.

_Amazing_, Eragon breathed.

A rumbling laugh echoed in his mind from the Dragon.

_I knew you'd like it._

Eragon smiled. He spread his own arms wide, threw his head back to the sky, and closed his eyes, a smile lightly dancing on his lips. Vaguely, he was aware that this was the first time he had smiled in a very long time.

Bid'Daum folded his wings together and pointed abruptly downwards into a nosedive. Eragon opened his eyes to see the ground rushing towards him. A shiver ran down his spin, and a thrill unlike any he had felt before ran through him. Wind whooshed pass them, and the ground raced towards them.

"WHOOO!" The cry escaped Eragon's lips as Bid'Daum tilted his wings and swung up at the very last moment before plunging into the ground. Eragon's stomach dropped and then nearly jumped into his throat as Bid'Daum rocketed back up into the sky.

_I don't see why you ever come back down to set foot on ground again. I'd want to fly forever_, Eragon said in awe.

Bid'Daum's amused chuckle was his only reply.

A moment later, Bid'Daum said, _I must come down to rest, as all creatures must_. After a pause, Bid'Daum added with a chuckle, _And, of course, I come back down for you. I don't think you'd survive too long without me._

Eragon laughed. When was the last time he'd laughed? Remembering how he had once loved to laugh, he laughed again, closing his eyes to savor the feeling of the wind flowing over him and the rumble of Bid'Daum's joining laughter beneath him.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Early morning light tumbled down through the thick, vine and moss covered branches of the forest, throwing mosaic designs on the forest floor. Eragon squinted through the bright sunlight, searching for the small fowl he had been tracking. The young Elf heard his stomach grumble. Sighing, Eragon searched the blue spots of sky visible though the tree tops for Bid'Daum.

Eragon had been growing increasingly irritated and frustrated over his lack of hunting skills and weaponry. His inability could get himself killed. He felt agitated that he could not take care of himself, that he was completely reliant upon Bid'Daum for his survival.

Straightening out of his crouch and stretching to his full height, Eragon kicked a log at his feet, listening to the groaning crack of wood as bark crumbled from the log's side. Overhead, a rumbling, fear-inspiring roar filled the air, and Eragon's mind reached out for the familiar touch of Bid'Daum's mind.

"Bid'Daum!" Eragon called aloud, his voice cracking from the unaccustomed use.

Dashing to the nearest tree, Eragon climbed up the tree's branches. His excitement at seeing Bid'Daum and of having a hearty meal of meat bolstered his climbing efforts with a renewed energy. Eragon's mouth watered as Bid'Daum sent him teasing aromas of fresh meat through the touch of their minds.

Finally at the top of the tree, Eragon lifted his arm into the air, his fist clenched tightly, waiting. Bid'Daum flew into sight, his glorious white scales reflecting the morning sunlight in blinding brilliance. The Dragon swooped down over Eragon, catching the young Elf's forearm in his front clawed foot and lifting him into the air.

Eragon gasped as he always did as the forest's green tree tops flashed by beneath him, brushing painfully against his bare feet. "Whoo!" he screamed, feeling the excitement and adrenaline surge through his body.

He felt one of the Dragon's claws snag his arm. _Careful, Bid'Daum_, Eragon warned, seeing blood gush from a small slit in his forearm. One of Bid'Daum's claws had accidentally punctured his skin.

_Hold on_, Bid'Daum warned in return.

The Dragon flicked his leg, swinging Eragon into the air, and let go oh his forearm. A scream burst from the Elf's mouth as he sailed through the air before landing on the Dragon's back with a painful THUD.

_Don't do that again_, Eragon complained, twinging from the pain radiating up his inner thighs. _Or you could at least be a little more gentle when you do that._

Bid'Daum's chest rumbled and shook with laughter.

_Oh, yes, that was just so funny_, Eragon mocked scathingly.

Eragon's angry, sarcastic comments had no effect on Bid'Daum's laughter as he veered downwards to land in a grassy clearing. The young Elf leapt with accustomed adeptness to the ground from the Dragon's back and quickly set off in search of firewood and cooking herb plants. When Eragon returned, Bid'Daum could sense the agitation flowing through the young Elf.

_What's wrong, Eragon?_ he asked. _You have been growing increasingly irritated and frustrated. I can feel them flowing through you._

Eragon knelt to build a fire. As he worked, he poured out the reasons for his irritation and anxiety—his inability to hunt without the required weapons, his feelings of helplessness. Bid'Daum listened patiently, silently understanding the young Elf's desire to be strong. Finally, Eragon fell silent, his energy spent from revealing his emotions to the Bid'Daum.

The Dragon and Elf continued to sit in silence, the Dragon sinking his teeth eagerly into the tender deer flesh and the Elf watching impatiently as his share of the meal cooked over the fire.

When Bid'Daum finished eating, he licked his lips and chin and settled his head onto his foreclaws, pondering intensely.

As Eragon finally dug into his cooked meal, Bid'Daum lifted his head and said, _Eragon, have you ever thought of casting a spell that would bind us closer together? That would allow the magic of my race to flow through you?_

Eragon stopped eating to stare across the fire at the Dragon. _What?_ he asked incredulously.

_You know the Ancient Language, you just lack the energy to cast and sustain many of your spells. But you have other words—words you learned from your time in Ellesmere._

Eragon suddenly recalled the prophecy he had once read in the library with Lilathnia. Eragon flinched at the thought of her, but he forced himself to recite the words in his mind:

_Out of the ashes of a fallen empire,_

_ Out of the darkness of war,_

_ Through the heat of the dragon's fire,_

_ A bond shall be forged._

_ A glimmer of hope shall shine,_

_ A flame of peace shall blaze,_

_ Until the start of another age._

And then he also recalled the secret, powerful words he had read from a scroll as Lilathnia also read from another scroll the story of her namesake and the beginning of the war with the Dragons.

_Lilathnia,_ Eragon whispered the name mournfully in his mind.

_Those words_, Bid'Daum agreed, brushing away the thoughts of Lilathnia, giving better clarity and focus to the young Elf's mind_. Create the spell, and I will supply the energy to sustain the magic and the spell._

Eragon sat up straight, his meal completely forgotten. _Yes_, he agreed, excited. _Let me think._

After a little while, Eragon said, _Alright, I'm ready_. He showed Bid'Daum his intended spell in his mind. _You ready?_ he asked the Dragon.

_Yes_, his deep voice rumble with an unbreakable certainty.

Eragon began, first repeating the words of the prophecy. Then he uttered the words, the words that even the greatest of his people's magicians feared to utter. He combined them with other words in the Ancient Language, weaving an intricate spell with the few simple, powerful words.

When he finished, Eragon and Bid'Daum waited.

Nothing happened.

Eragon frowned. _Well, I guess that didn't work_, he said, reaching out his hand to rub Bid'Daum's nose.

As his hand touched Bid'Daum's nose, a piercing shock shot through his hand, ran up his arm, and spread through his entire body. Eragon screamed and jumped away, breaking contact. He fell to the ground and could not move, frozen to the earth. Pain flowed through his body. His eyesight wavered and then refocused sharper than before. Everything sounded too loud in his ears. A multitude of voices rang in his mind.

When he could move again, Eragon rolled onto his side and into a ball as the shock continued to race through his veins. He strongly felt Bid'Daum near him. Bid'Daum, the Dragon.

_No_, Eragon suddenly thought. _Bid'Daum, _my_ Dragon._

_Eragon_, Bid'Daum's voice resonated deep within Eragon's being. Then, Eragon understood—they had been bonded together, and magic was flowing newly through his Elfin veins.

Eragon smiled, feeling a new love for Bid'Daum flow through him. They were now partners in this life. Partners for life. Two souls, two friends, forever bound together. _Never again alone._


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Time passed quickly for Eragon. Without notice, the days stretched into weeks, the weeks into months, and the months into years. Or rather, time ceased to exist to the young Elf.

Eragon and Bid'Daum's bond only strengthened as time passed. They grew to become the greatest of friends, their mental bond giving them such a great intimacy of mind and soul. Though one be Dragon and the other Elf, neither noticed. To one another, the other was friend, which was the only important thing to their lonely souls. They flew together, hunted together, shared images and memories and knowledge with each other, and spent nearly every waking hour together. A soul mate had been found in the other, and both sides were loath to part with the other.

Bid'Daum grew rapidly, his strength constantly doubling along with his size. In little time, he breathed fire and was a fearsome sight to behold for any foe, though there thankfully were few or no enemies to be faced in the secluded confines of the peaceful forest. Eragon gazed upon his Dragon proudly, knowing that no other creature in the forest could match his Dragon for marvelous beauty. No other creature had the power and prowess, nor the white shimmering scales of his Dragon Bid'Daum.

Eragon constantly felt changes taking place in his own body. A new strength flowed through him. He was faster, more powerful, and very strong. His muscles lengthened into a sinew as strong as steel. His senses were heightened, and his speed marveled any other creature in the forest. He knew he was no longer helpless as he once was. He too, like Bid'Daum, was a magical creature to be reckoned with.

His appearance changed, too. His face became slightly more angular, further pronouncing his handsome, sharp jawline. His eyes slanted slightly more than the average Elf, and even his ears pointed with a renewed elegance. His hair, always windblown, flowed long and wild around his face. Though his clothes had been reduced to little more than tatters, his body bared the stature of an experienced warrior.

Magic was flowing through his veins. The sensation was unnerving yet wondrous to him. Spells required less of his strength. Or rather, as he realized, he had more energy—a seemingly boundless amount compared to his previous strength. His knowledge and understanding of magic and the Ancient Language increased day by day as he studied and experimented with his knowledge. He learned to sing a bow from a tree branch using his new magical songs, and he learned how to cause plants and trees to grow and how to shape them with his song. The art unnerved him, yet pleased him.

A new awareness dawned upon the Elf with his newfound magic. His mind was stronger, and he could hear the many voices of the forest—the animals, the insects, the trees, the plants. He learned to embrace their voices and how to block out their voices when he needed peace. But a new conviction settled upon him. He could no longer find it within himself to eat meat with any regularity. Bid'Daum never shared this conviction, but Eragon slowly turned his diet to fruits, vegetables, and nuts of the forest.

Eragon found solace from his past in the forest on his walks near Bid'Daum. Beneath the forest, Eragon would sing new songs aloud as Bid'Daum flew overhead, sounding his Dragon harmony. The young Elf felt at peace with his Dragon, and Bid'Daum thought little of finding other Dragons or his lost heritage. He was content for the time with his little Elfin friend, just as Eragon was content to have the Dragon for his only friend.

Two years passed in this manner, the young Elf and Dragon lost to time in a world without time.

But this peaceful time soon came to end. One day, after a particularly long and vigorous hunt, Bid'Daum and Eragon sat near the edge of a great cliff overlooking a valley, misty and gray as the fog descended—a mystical place of legends.

Bid'Daum turned and bowed his head to look Eragon levelly in the eye.

_Eragon_, his deep voice rumbled. The dragon's eyes seemed never-ending and without depth. _Eragon, we must bring peace between the Dragons and Elves._

_They'll never stop. Both sides want blood_, Eragon replied.

_No. We can stop them. They will listen, and we will make peace_, Bid'Daum said with conviction.

Eragon sighed heavily, gazing without seeing at the scenic expanse before him.

_Eragon, I believe in you. I've known then as I know now that you have a great and noble heart. Your kind will listen to you_, the Dragon said, his deep voice resonating in the young Elf's mind.

_I don't want to go back_, Eragon said, mournfully, placing his hand on the Dragon's white, shimmering scales. _I can't go back._

Bid'Daum hummed. _Lilathnia_, the forbidden name echoed in Eragon's head.

Eragon snapped his head up. He glared angrily at Bid'Daum.

_I hear her in your thoughts. You think of her often_, he said gently.

_I can never get the images of her out of my head, the images of her lying there, broken, on the ground._ Eragon gulped. _The gashes on her face, the blood covering her._ The Elf's eyes welled up with unshed tears. But they did not spill over. They never spilled over.

_I am sorry, Eragon, that one of my kind did that to her and caused you such pain. I can feel your pain._ Bid'Daum spread his wing comfortingly around Eragon.

_I just can't go back, Bid'Daum. I see your thoughts, as you know mine. But I was banished. They will kill me if I return._

_Think, Eragon! Think of Lilathnia. If we do not end this—if we do not at least try—how many more will die like her? How many more lonely lovers like you will wander heartbroken and angry beneath the forest's trees. And others will be angrier than you and will seek their revenge. It will never end_, Bid'Daum argued gently, his voice like a whisper carried by the wind in his mind. _This war we destroy us all. Not even here will you and I be able to escape from it forever._

Eragon had no argument. He sighed resignedly.

_You can't go with me into Ellesmere, you know_, Eragon reminded the Dragon.

_But I won't be far_, Bid'Daum promised.

_And if they decide to kill me like they promised?_ Eragon prompted.

_I won't let that happen. I'd sweep in and carry you away before they even realize what is happening_, Bid'Daum chuckled, an image of the faces of dumbfounded Elves floating into Eragon's mind.

Eragon sighed heavily.

Bid'Daum lowered his head to look Eragon directly into his eyes again. _It will work_, he said with a confidence that Eragon did not share. _We will bring peace._

_First light?_ Eragon offered.

_First light_, the Dragon hummed.

The two friends, Elf and Dragon, sat silently side by side, watching the sun set together. The stars emerged from their daily hiding places and sparkled brightly in the night sky. Neither of the friends slept that night. They continued to sit silently, gazing at the stars until the sun slowly broke over the mountain peeks in the far distance, spraying pale colors across the blue sky. Rays of sunlight slowly slipped over the peeks, stabbing the pale colors with fresh, brighter yellows and oranges. The valley sprang alive. Birds chirped, and small animals scrambled awake in the valley below.

_First light_, Bid'Daum commented.

Stiffly, Eragon rocked onto his feet, stood, and stretched. _First light_, Eragon repeated, the ominous words weighing heavily with meaning.

Springing lightly onto Bid'Daum's back, Eragon said, _No matter what happens I am glad—no, honored—to have had a friend like you._

_Nothing bad is going to happen, Eragon_, Bid'Daum answered reassuringly.

Bunching his powerful leg muscles beneath him, Bid'Daum sprang into the air and spread his wings. Catching an upward air current, Bid'Daum rose high into the morning sky. Veering west away from the morning sun, Bid'Daum flew towards Ellesmere.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

_Bid'Daum, let me down here_.

_No, further ahead I will_, the Dragon countered.

_Bid'Daum, if we get too much closer, Elves will begin to see you._

The Dragon continued to fly, unperturbed.

_Bid'Daum_, Eragon yelled, exasperated.

_Not yet!_ the Dragon growled_. I won't let you walk so far alone, lest a Dragon picks you off. And I want to find a safe place to hide as close as possible to you. I will not cower far away in fear!_ Bid'Daum snapped his jaws, emphasizing his point.

The Elf cowered back from his Dragon's fierce tirade and said nothing more for a time.

When Eragon began to recognize the lay of the land below, he warned, _I don't think we should go any father now._

Eragon felt Bid'Daum's agreement, but he also felt the Dragon's agitation. _I have not found a suitable place to land and hide._

_I knew it!_ Eragon rolled his eyes. _You should have listened to me when I said we should have stopped earlier._

Bid'Daum's menacing growl caused Eragon to cut off from whatever else he had to say.

_There_, Bid'Daum indicated an outcropping in the near distance, sending Eragon a mental image of what he saw with his keen Dragon eyes.

_Drop me into the forest here_, Eragon suggested.

The young Elf slid down the Dragon's foreleg, Bid'Daum grasping Eragon's arm with his foreclaw as he fell.

_Here_, Eragon told him.

Flying low over the forest, Bid'Daum opened his claws and watched as Eragon dropped through the treetops below. Eragon maneuvered through the branches as he fell, lighting on a thick branch fall way down to the forest floor. Jumping from the tree branch, Eragon dropped to the ground, landing on the balls of his feet, one hand to the ground for balance.

Eragon quickly located a well-worn path and followed it, glancing up through the trees to see Bid'Daum flying away.

_I will come and see you soon_, Eragon promised_. If I survive this, that is_, he gulped_. Perhaps they will kill me, skewer my body on a stake, and leave my carcass out to attract and entice any wandering Dragons. And when you come for me, they'll kill you, too. _

_Your newfound sense of sarcasm touches my heart_, Bid'Daum shot back. _But the Elves truly are dumb if they think that a little thing like you would attract a Dragon's attention. You would hardly make for a decent meal._ Bid'Daum quieted for a moment. _I will be watching for you,_ he added in heartfelt farewell.

Eragon felt too nervous for the fate that awaited him to merely walk calmly to it, so he ran towards it. The trees blurred past him with his eerily swift speed.

After several hours, the young Elf stopped briefly for a cool drink from passing, trickling forest stream. Just then he remembered his clothes, looking down in dismay at the tatters that still clung to his body. He had not long ago abandoned his shirt, and he had not since seen the need to construct a new set of clothes from the skins of the animals Bid'Daum devoured. Glancing down at what remained of his pants, Eragon gulped Though the cloth adequately covered him, there wasn't enough covering him for anyone to ever call him modest.

Eragon felt the rumbling laughter of Bid'Daum through his mental connection. _Yes, so very funny, Bid'Daum. Perfect. Why didn't you mention this to me before, the way that I look?_

Bid'Daum laughed through their mental connection again. _You are the only Elf I have ever seen. How am I to know what is proper?_

Eragon groaned. _I can just see it now. 'Ah, yes, my attire, Queen Tarmunora, I have an excellent explanation for my attire. I mean no offense!' She's likely to kill me for my disrespectful appearance than for disobeying my banishment sentence._

The Dragon continued to laugh. _Really Eragon, you have been spending much too much time with me. Your sarcasm will most likely get you killed first._

'It's not my fault, my Queen!' Eragon continued his mocking speech. 'A Dragon possessed me! Drove me mad and broke my mind! I escaped his influence and crawled back here for mercy and sanctuary among your magicians.'

_Really, Eragon_, Bid'Daum scolded, though there was humor in his voice. _Your imagination is hideously overdeveloped._

Bid'Daum began to withdraw from his mind then as he landed on the far away appointed outcropping. _I will be near, but I can barely feel your mind now. Soon you will be too far away for me to hear you._

_I will miss you_, Eragon offered in farewell.

_In the meantime, clothes first_, the young Elf decided. He kept his pace at a brisk walk, hoping to meet a lone Elf living outside the city that would be kind enough to lend him some clothes.

Just as he had wished, a small dwelling sat snuggly under a tight group of sycamore trees. Large boulders lay scattered around the trees, offering even better shelter against the harsh, cold winds and against any attackers. Eragon approached silently, hoping that the Elf living there was a kind one. As he neared, an Elf came into his view. The Elf was bent over his garden, working intently. When Eragon moved around a boulder and into sight, the old Elf lifted his head, startled.

The old Elf stood slowly to his feet and asked him a question, but the words had no meaning to Eragon. He listened, perplexed, but he still did not understand. And the old Elf seemed somehow familiar.

Recognition and understanding finally came to Eragon. The old Elf was his beloved teaching Master, Nolfavrell. And the language the old Elf spoke was the Elven language that Eragon too had once spoken, a language that he no longer carried in his memory.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin," Eragon greeted elegantly in the Ancient Language. "Forgive me, Master Nolfavrell for coming to you like this, but I am on my way to Ellesmere. If you would be so kind as to lend me a pair of clothes?"

Recognition dawned on the Master's face. "Eragon!" he exclaimed. Switching smoothly to the Ancient Language, he continued, "You are back!'

Eragon shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "I'm sorry to ask you for your help, for as you know, I have been exiled—."

"You have not heard, then?" the old Master interrupted, a strange expression on his face that Eragon could not identify.

"Heard what?" Eragon asked, still feeling perplexed and embarrassed.

"Queen Tarmunora pardoned you," the old Master informed him with a kind smile.

"Pardoned," Eragon repeated dumbly.

The Master's smile broadened. "And I am sure Lilathnia will be glad to see you."

Eragon froze. "Lilathnia," he repeated, a familiar, searing pain shooting through his chest.

He blinked twice before saying, "Lilathnia is dead." He tried to keep the pain out of his voice, but failed.

"No!" the old Master said. "She is alive! That is why they pardoned you. She was able to recount what happened once she recovered. She acted as a witness for you."

"Alive," Eragon breathed, too shocked to form any longer sentence. He shook his head, trying to clear away the deceiving words. "No, I saw her. She was dead."

"The healers thought she was too, but when they carried her body back to Ellesmere, they discovered that she was still alive," the old Master said.

Eragon's head snapped up, hope flaring inside his chest. "Can I see her?"

The old Master chuckled. "I'll get you some clothes first, and then I'll take you to Ellesmere."

"Wait," Eragon came to his senses. "I must visit my father first."

A sobered and compassionate expression spread across the old Master's features. "Eragon," he began, his voice soft, "your father, Elor, is dead."

The old Elf stepped towards Eragon to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Eragon stumbled away from the Elf's touch, falling back against the side of a large boulder. "Dead?" his voice broke.

The agonized look on his old Master's face told him it was true.

"No," Eragon choked. He felt the air constricting from his lungs, his chest heavy as if a great boulder sat upon his chest, a boulder like the one he himself leaned upon.

Struggling to breathe under the weight of his sorrow, Eragon bent over and buried his head in his hands. "I've traded one life for another. Lilathnia is alive, my father dead."

The old Elf placed his hand comfortingly on the young Elf's back. "Eragon, I will find you some clothes, then I will take you to your father's house."

When Master Nolfavrell returned with the clothes, the haunted look residing in the young Elf's eyes startled him. And when Eragon did not answer any of his questions or move to accept the clothes, the Master pressed the clothes into the youth's arms and coaxed him to dress. Eragon obeyed mutely and followed the old Master as he led him away towards his father's house.

However long it took for them to reach the farm of his childhood, Eragon did not notice. He did not notice how winded and tired the old Master became as they traveled, and he did not notice how far they had gone. In the many previous months, time had almost ceased to exist for him, but now, the world just simply stopped altogether. _And I don't ever want it to start again,_ Eragon mourned.

When at last they arrived, Eragon dashed ahead of the old Master and burst into the little house. But all that met him was emptiness. What furniture was left was broken. Thick dust covered every surface, and cobwebs hung from the low rafters. Without thought, Eragon moved towards the fireplace. Above it hung his father's sword. Lifting it from the hooks that held the sword, Eragon ran his fingers over the dusty scabbard. Eragon unsheathed the sword only far enough to ascertain that the white blade held no rust. Whoever had forged and crafted the sword had created a perfect lethal beauty.

Eragon sheathed the sword. _My father's legacy._ The young Elf cradled the sword, a deadly child in his arms. _All that is left of my father._ Repulsed, Eragon flung the sword to the floor. The sound of clanging metal rang through the room as the sword collided with the wooded floor.

Turning and looking about the room, the small, humble home that Eragon had shared with his beloved father, Eragon began to cry for the first time since his banishment, since the last time his eyes had beheld his father.

Eragon touched his wet face in mute wonder. He had not cried when the Dragon had chased him through the forest. He had not cried when he fell from the cliff, bouncing and rolling down the jagged rocks to his strange fate. And he certainly had not cried when he found that the only creature in the world that cared for him was his people's enemy, a Dragon.

But now, now he cried. Tears trickled down his face as he remembered his father. The disgrace, the heartbreak, the disappointment had killed his old father. _I killed him. I—_, Eragon choked at the thought.

Eragon reached out for the familiar touch of Bid'Daum, aching to share his grief with some other soul. But Eragon did not feel his Dragon's comforting touch; he felt nothing, only the old Master and the creatures in the forest surrounding the small dwelling. With the realization of Bid'Daum's absence, a crushing wave of loneliness crashed over Eragon's soul. _Such loneliness. Such pain! How did I endure so long without Bid'Daum? _

Eragon's knees buckled beneath him, and he fell to the floor, bruising his knees. Sobbing, he cried out in his mind, _Bid'Daum! Bid'Daum!_ When only silence answered, Eragon grabbed his hair in his hands and lowered his head to the floor, bowing again under the weight of his sorrow, and he continued to weep.

"Father, father!" Eragon called aloud, wishing with all of his heart that his father would answer and he would wake from this awful nightmare.

But as Eragon knew would happen, his father's scratchy, comforting voice did not answer. And when he looked up from the floor, only an empty room full of broken furniture, dust, and cobwebs met his eyes.

"Forgive me, father," he cried. "Forgive me for what I have done to you. You deserved a better son." But echoes of all the things his father once said to him came back to his mind, and deep inside his heart, Eragon knew that his father would not agree with the words his son spoke now.

Gripping his father's sword in one hand, Eragon crawled to his father's bed and toppled into it. There he lay without thought of time or of the life passing by him in the world outside the little house. Light shifted over Eragon, bright then dark, and bright again. Still he lay, his grief too heavy to allow him to move or rise.

At last, Master Nolfavrell came to him, bent over his half-sleeping form, and gently shook his shoulder. "Come, Eragon, you have lingered in your father's house for too long. It is time that we go. The Queen must be seen."

Just as Eragon thought that all his strength had at last been broken and taken from him, hope returned and filled him with a strength and determination. Bid'Daum he still had to protect. Lilathnia he had still to find.

Struggling to his feet, waves of grief still lingering over him, Eragon retrieved his father's sword from the floor by his bed and solemnly followed Master Nolfavrell out of his father's house and on towards Ellesmere and the Elven court.

With one last look over his shoulder, Eragon bid his father a final farewell. _I wish you, father, to know what I have become. Eka eddyr aí…Shur'tugal. Shur'tual. Your legacy is far more than just this sword I now carry. I would have had no destiny without you. Eak elrun ono. Rest now in peace. Farewell, my father._


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Eragon walked up the steps of the Grand Hall at a lagged pace, memories from his last visit hitting him hard in his stomach. He quelled the urge to turn and run with his uncanny speed and return to the peace and numbness of the forests with Bid'Daum.

Entering the Grand Hall, Eragon glimpsed a great audience, Master Nolfavrell having already sent word ahead of Eragon's return. The room fell deathly silent as he entered.

"Eragon, son of Elor," the Queen's voice boomed down through the hall. "Come forward."

Eragon quickly obeyed and walked through the crowd of staring Elves that split before him. Two empty thrones sat upon a dais at the end of the Grand Hall, and Queen Tarmunora stood in all her glorious splendor before the dais. Her intricate gown, swathed in a cloak of white swan feathers, flowed elegantly around her body. Though she appeared a beautiful queen, her posture and stance suggested a quickness and strength of body that only a warrior would have. At last, Eragon emerged from the crowd and stood before the Queen. He bowed grandly, twisting his hand in an odd fashion over his chest, and greeted her, "Atra du evarínya ono varda. Atra esterní ono thelduin. Atra guliä un ilian tauthr ono un atra ono waíse sköliro fra rauthr."

Queen Tarmunora greeted him in the Elven language, and she said many other things that Eragon did not understand. When she finished, her voice lilted in a manner that Eragon thought must have been a question.

Eragon cleared his throat, his voice still scratchy from the years without use. "Forgive me my Queen," he ventured in the Ancient Language, "but I only speak in the Ancient Language and have forgotten any other. I did not understand you just now."

Queen Tarmunora looked shocked and surprised, and a multitude of hushed murmurs broke the discomforting silence of the Grand Hall. The Elves now stared at him with an even greater intensity and curiosity.

"Eragon, son of Elor," she said again, starting anew in the Ancient Language, "this court was too hasty in banishing you from the kingdom. Testimony was brought forth after your banishment, testimony that proved your innocence. Lilathnia was presumed dead, but our healers miraculously succeeded in reviving her. She spoke to the court in your favor. But from what I understand, you did not know that you had been absolved." The Queen paused, her expression puzzled and full of curiosity. "Why, then, did you return?"

With her simple question, Eragon suddenly felt the weight of his destiny and the immensity of his decision descend upon him. A moment passed before he could find his voice. "For peace, my Queen. I returned for peace. I returned to help put an end to this war with the Dragons."

Astonishment showed plainly on the Queen's face. "And how do you think that you may help end this war?" she asked, skepticism clear in her voice.

Eragon tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat. "While in exile, I encountered many Dragons, and they are not the dumb brutes we originally presumed them to be. They understand the Ancient Language—."

The crowd burst into shouts of outrage and astonishment. The Queen's counsel began to argue loudly among themselves.

"Silence!" Queen Tarmunora ordered above the din. The hall fell silent once again.

"If I may, your Highness," an old Elf approached her. Eragon recognized him as the creepy Master Dronuthen. "The young Elf has been wandering the wilds for far too long. All this change must be getting to him. Dragons are dumb brutes, my Queen. Perhaps we should leave the young Elf to rest."

"Indeed," Queen Tarmunora agreed. "You may go, Eragon, and rest."

Eragon sighed and turned to leave, recognizing that his cries for peace would not yet be heeded nor would peace be won this day. He was too tired and grief-stricken to argue and urge for peace. And with the Queen's words, he suddenly knew that words alone would not be enough to convince the Elves of Ellesmere. But what more must be done or shown Eragon did not know.

"Also," the Queen continued, briefly stopping Eragon, "I am sure that your grief must be great and you wish to mourn your father's death."

Eragon's head bowed in sorrow under her admonishment and understanding.

"Know that my heart goes out to you, Eragon, son of Elor, for my dearly beloved king has been murdered by the Dragon's since your absence."

Queen Tarmunora held out her hand to Eragon, a gesture of understanding and compassion for her subject. Gently, Eragon took her hand in his and lifted it briefly to his lips. A single tear slipped from his eye and dripped onto the jewel of her ring. Glancing up over her hand, he met her gaze, and he saw unshed tears also in her eyes. But there, he also saw a control of her grief, a power and wisdom that he did not yet possess. Straightening, he let go of her hand and noticed that all traces of sorrow were suddenly gone from her eyes.

"I am sure that you must be eager to see Lilathnia," the Queen continued. Eragon's heart rose with her words. "Unfortunately, she is not in Ellesmere just now. She is not often here nowadays, but I have been told that she will return in a few days." Eragon's heart sank again. "Now go, Eragon, son of Elor. Go now in peace among us."

Eragon did as she bid. As he turned to go, he encountered Master Dronuthen's hateful gaze. A silent menace, a threatening promise lurked in his eyes. Eragon forced his eyes away from the old Elf and strode out the Grand Hall amidst the loud whispers of the watching Elves.

In the two days that followed, Eragon stayed with Master Nolfavrell outside the city. The old Elf did not pester Eragon with questions, and for this Eragon was eternally grateful. Bid'Daum was still too far away for Eragon to communicate with him, but Eragon felt easier knowing that he was closer to his Dragon at night than he was while in the city during the day.

Each day Eragon listlessly explored Ellesmere. Much had been altered in his absence. The city appeared ready and stocked for war. Homes had been destroyed, burnt to the ground, and rebuilt. The combination of the new, the old, and the ash of former things was a harsh reminder of what happened daily with the Dragons while Eragon lived in peace and harmony with his Dragon Bid'Daum.

As Eragon walked through Ellesmere, Elves stopped to stare and whisper. Their whispers were low to their own ears, but to Eragon's heightened senses, each word was distinct and clear. The whispers surprised him. Some thought him a menace and a dwindler in dark magic, for who could survive alone in the forests so far from the Elven realm? Others thought him mysterious, his looks wild and feral. A few even whispered that he was exceedingly handsome, far more so than any other of their race.

On the third morning after Eragon's arrival, the young Elf walked through the trees along the outskirts of Ellesmere. His thoughts dwelled on his deceased father, but they often returned to Bid'Daum, sending a lonely ache radiating through his chest.

SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! Eragon shuddered at the sound. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! _What is that sound? Where is it coming from?_ Eragon wondered, bewildered. His ears ached. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! Eragon turned. A creature, a thing like a phantom from some miserable night's dream, loomed out from of the mists. _A Fanghur!_

Eragon remembered the stories that his father had told him as a child, stories of another creature that was also enemies with the Dragons. The Masters had called them the Tormentors of Dragons, for that is what they loved to do. They looked exactly like miniature dragons except that their bodies and tails were longer, like that of an eel. And they moved—flew—from side to side like an eel. The effect was eerie and disconcerting for their prey.

Eragon gazed in wonder at the sight of the mysterious creature. Behind the Fanghur, more followed closely behind. This was a rare sight indeed, for Fanghurs were said to be afraid of Elves.

SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! Eragon covered his ears with his hands. The sound was terrible, almost deafening. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! The Fanghurs veered towards him, and Eragon shivered. _How threatening they look!_ SSSSKKKKAAAAAKKKK! Eragon faltered, but refused to move. _Surely they would never attack an Elf! _SSSSKKKKAAAAAKKKK!

THAWP! Something rammed into his back. He tumbled to the ground. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that a Fanghur, flying away, had attacked him from behind. W_hat dark magic is this, that a Fanghur should dare to attack an Elf?_ Eragon's thoughts spun, stunned. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! Eragon flipped onto his back and yelped in fear. Three Fanghurs, followed closely by others, swooped down towards him. In an instant, they were upon him, clawing and biting him with their sharp claws and fangs. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! they shrieked with glee. Eragon screamed as claws slashed his back and fangs sank deep into his flesh. He tried to fight them, to push them away from his tender flesh, to kick them from his battered body, to retaliate and hit them with all his might, but they were too powerful and their number too great.

Ergaon struggled helplessly against their ferocity. Crying out for help, Eragon feared that the Fanghurs would kill him and tear him to pieces before any help could come.

BOOM. More Fangurs dove at him. BOOM. The air around them shivered and vibrated. BOOM. The Fanghurs paused their attack in fear. Eragon rolled onto his hands and knees, trying to crawl away. BOOM. The creatures looked towards the sky, silent in their boding fear. A roar split through the silence. A white streak flashed down from the sky. SSSSHHHHAAAA! Flames licked the air around the Fanghurs. SSSSKKKAAAAAKKKK! The Fanghurs leapt into the air to escape the flames. SSSSHHHHHAAAA! Flames engulfed the Fanghurs. A briny, putrid smell snaked through the air.

Finding his strength, Eragon leapt to his feet and ran. He staggered. The world spun dizzyingly around him, and his vision blurred. He felt cold, but a warm sensation trickled over his cold skin. Looking down, Eragon saw his own blood. He stumbled and fell.

_Eragon!_ a deep, familiar voice resonated.

"Bid'Daum," Eragon murmured aloud.

Then, the world suddenly darkened around him as he faded into unconsciousness.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Eragon awoke. He lay on soft covers. A sweet scent flitted to his nose, and soft light filtered through a nearby window. A light breeze tickled his cheek.

Eragon's vision cleared. His breath caught in his throat. His heart leapt. Lilathnia stood over him.

"Lilathnia," Eragon whispered. She smiled down at him, her hair flowing gently around her face and over her shoulders. "Am I dead?"

Her lips parted. She laughed gently. "Am I dreaming?" Eragon asked faintly.

Lilathnia's twinkling laughter greeted him, her laughter that always sounded like music.

"You are not dead Eragon, nor are you dreaming," she said softly, her fingers brushing softly against his face.

"How?" Eragon wondered.

Slowly, the events from the past few days trickled back into his memory. Lilathnia was alive. And she was here, standing over him.

Hesitantly, slowly, fearing that the angelic image before him would waver and disappear, Eragon reached out his hand to touch Lilathnia's face. A faint scar, so faint that he would have missed it if she had not been so close, ran across one cheek. Oh, how that day had haunted him!

"You're alive," he breathed.

Lilathnia smiled sweetly in reply. "Yes," she said.

Eragon's heart swelled.

_Eragon!_ a deep voice rumbled with anxiety.

_Bid'Daum_, he answered vaguely, staring transfixed up at Lilathnia.

_Are you alright? I was so worried you wouldn't make it. I almost tore into Ellesmere to carry you away before those fool healers killed you._

_Yes, I'm fine. You saved me,_ Eragon replied, faintly remembering, and conveyed his feelings of gratitude to the Dragon. _Lilathnia is alive_, he could not help but add.

Bid'Duam fell silent, thoughtful, listening to Eragon's memories and viewing the images of Lilathnia in his mind.

_I will be close by_, Bid'Daum hummed, suddenly understanding the color of Eragon's emotions, and quickly withdrew to give Eragon a few moments of privacy.

"Eragon!" Lilathnia's voice called.

Eragon started back to complete attention, a bewildered look on his face.

"What? What is wrong?" he asked softly, confused.

"You scared me," she breathed quietly. Eragon could feel her warm breath on his cheek. "You looked so far away, like you were going to faint."

"Oh," was all Eragon could think to say in reply.

"Maybe you should rest a little while longer," she suggested, a concerned look on her delicate face.

When Lilathnia started to move quietly away from him, Eragon's stomach clenched tightly.

"Wait!" he nearly shouted.

Eragon reached and, in his desperation, grabbed her arm. Vaguely, Eragon realized how soft her skin felt.

"Stay," he quietly begged.

Too late, Eragon realized the social Elven dislike of being touched unless both belonged in a tight circle of family or friends—or were lovers. A faint expression of surprise lighted on Lilathnia's face. Eragon quickly pulled away his hand from her arm. He had been away for so very long.

"Please?" Eragon pleaded.

"Alright," Lilathnia answered, lowering herself into the chair beside his bed, blinking away her surprise. "So, tell me, then, of your adventures," she prompted, a hint of boundless eagerness and curiosity beneath her cool, calm exterior appearance.

Eragon laughed lightly. "There's not much to tell. Just trying to stay alive was all."

Lilathnia rolled her eyes. "Really, Eragon, do you expect me to believe that?"

Eragon smiled innocently. He really did not want to go into the details. He didn't think Lilathnia would take the story of Bid'Daum, nor his bond with the Dragon, too well.

Lilathnia sighed, almost dramatically. She reached for his hand.

"Then, tell me," she asked, turning his hand palm up, "how you got this scar. I've never seen anything like it."

She ran her fingers lightly over the shinny, white mark on his hand. He knew it would feel smooth and cool to her touch. _How stupid of me! I completely forgot about it._ _How could it not draw attention?_ Eragon thought morbidly.

He did not answer her question. Instead, he silently watched Lilathnia struggle with the Ancient Language as she searched for a specific word. He smiled at her easy forgetfulness of the language, as she had always had.

"Argetlam," she finally breathed, more to herself than Eragon.

Argetlam. The word struck Eragon, however. It was the perfect word, the word for which he had also been searching for the past several years without success. He blushed at his presumption about Lilathnia's forgetfulness. Her memory for the language may not be stellar, but her understanding was outstanding.

When Lilathnia looked to him again for a reply to her previous question, he settled on a reply as close to the truth as possible without revealing his rather shocking secret.

"A Dragon gave it to me." The corners of his mouth turned up into a teasing smile.

"A Dragon!" Lilathnia exclaimed. "Did it hurt?"

Eragon laughed at her exuberance. "Yes, it hurt! The Dragon touched me, and it felt like a lightening bolt shot through my body."

Lilathnia's mouth dropped open in horror. "How did you survive?" she asked, barely able to conceal her ravishing curiosity.

"He left me alone after that. I wasn't much of a danger to him then," Eragon chucked.

"And these?" Lilathnia questioned, brushing her fingers along the three scars running across his bare, exposed chest.

Eragon inhaled sharply. His scars tingled under her touch, but not from pain.

Eragon hesitated, however, before he answered. _How much of the truth could she handle?_ he wondered. She tilted her face up to him, waiting expectantly for an answer. He could not deny the innocent expression on her face. _Isn't she horrified after what a dragon once did to her?_

"A baby Dragon," Eragon answered quietly.

"A baby Dragon!" Lilathnia did not even try to conceal her curiosity now.

Her pure sweetness stunned him. No hatred or malice existed in her voice or on her face.

Eragon laughed happily. "Well, it was my fault. I made him angry. I tried to steal his food," he explained.

The stunned expression on Lilathnia's face caused Eragon to laugh until the wounds on his back ached.

"Well," she began once she recovered herself, "you are just as crazy as they all say you are."

Eragon laughed even harder. "You have no idea."

Lilathnia laughed, but then her face turned serious. "I'm sorry, Eragon, about your father," she said suddenly, her expression sorrowful and solemn.

Eragon sobered immediately. A twinge of pain crossed his features.

"I'm sorry about everything," her voice quavered. "I thought about you every day, hoping that you were still alive. No one should have to go through what you did." She looked up and met his gaze, a tear sliding down her cheek. "You were innocent, and—," she ducked her head back down to stare at her hands—"I can't help but feel that it was partially my fault. Maybe if I had—."

Eragon quickly sat up and reached to cover her hand with his own. His hand easily enveloped hers.

"It wasn't your fault. Never think that. I don't know by what dark magic it all happened, but it wasn't any fault of yours," he assured her, gazing intently at her until she lifted her eyes to meet his. "You were a victim as much as I." He swallowed hard at the memory.

"But that could have happened to any other Elf," Lilathnia said dismissively.

Eragon fervently wished at that moment that he could tell her about Bid"Daum. She would love him, and he was sure Bid'Daum would adore her, if any Dragon could really be said to do such a thing.

Eragon's head began to pound. His vision wavered. Lilathnia noticed the change on his face immediately.

"Now you must rest, Eragon," she commanded, pushing him back down onto his pillow. He found himself unable, and unwilling, to ague.

"But I want to hear of everything that you have done in the years since I've been gone," he weakly objected. He felt undeniably drained.

"Another time, Eragon," she whispered. "Sleep now."

Eragon's heavy eyelids slowly lid shut. Before sleep overtook him completely, he felt Lilathnia's lips gently kiss his cheek.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Eragon woke to bright morning sunlight filtering softly through the light folds of fabric hanging over the windows. For the past several days, Eragon had stayed in the healer's infirmary. He felt fit and well, but the healers were doubtful of his health and prohibited him from leaving. Eragon furiously resisted, but Lilathnia convinced him to stay in bed and rest for a few days more.

But Eragon had seen little of Lilathnia. She came and went as duty called, but Eragon wanted her all to himself. He was tired of the listless days in bed. It felt wrong—strange. In the past two years, to be so lazy meant death.

Eragon sat up and leaned back on his elbows, glancing around the room. A garment of soft linen lay on a nearby chair.

The young Elf swung his feet around to the side of the bed and hissed as the sudden stretch painfully twisted the wounds across his back. He hopped onto his feet and stumbled towards his clothes.

_Eragon_, a familiar deep voice resonated.

Eragon allowed his mind to drift towards the voice in greeting as he pulled on the silky smooth pants that were lying on the chair by his bed.

_You are awake_, the voice commented. _Be careful. Your strength has not yet fully returned._

_I can't sit around any longer. I'll soon go crazy._

Bid'Daum rumbled across their mental connection in understanding. _Some believe you already are crazy, I think,_ Bid'Daum observed with amusement.

As Eragon quickly slipped the immaculately clean shirt over his head, a healer entered the room. Startled, she began to scold him in the language that he had forgotten. Eragon interrupted with a quick explanation and an expression of gratitude in the Ancient Language before fleeing the room, leaving the bewildered healer in his wake.

Once outside the healers' infirmary, Eragon wandered listlessly through the streets, unsure of where to go.

_Bid'Daum_, Eragon called out with his mind. Hearing Bid'Daum hum in reply, Eragon continued, _How is it that I can hear you now and not before? And how was it that you were there in time to save me?_

_Since the attack, I have found a closer place to hide. It is very near, but it is well secluded. _

_Bid'Daum, I don't like you being so close. It is dangerous for you._

_Don't lecture me, Eragon. I was going crazy without you. And if anything ever happened to you, I am not sure what I would do. You are the only friend that I have,_ Bid'Daum rumbled.

_I don't know how, _the Dragon continued, _but I knew that something was wrong. I could feel it. You were in great distress. I wasn't sure if the Elves had decided to kill you after all. So, I rushed back in time to save your from those nasty Fanghurs._

_Why would the Fanghurs attack an Elf? _Eragon wondered. _It doesn't make sense. _

_Fanghurs are awfully annoying creatures. Bothersome wretches, _Bid'Daum growled.

_Yes, but they have always left the Elves alone. It all gives me an eerie feeling that something is wrong, that something against nature took place. _Eragon pensively bit the inside of his cheek as he recalled the Fanghurs swooping down upon him. _It doesn't make sense. It just plain and simple doesn't add up._

_I would not worry about it for now,_ Bid'Daum advised him._ They are dead. I killed them_, he growled again in satisfaction._ And I will protect you from them if ever again they try to harm you. Their limbs break very easily._

_Hmmm, _Eragon hummed, both amused and touched at his Dragon's fierce protectiveness.

"Eragon," a deep, melodic voice startled Eragon. Jumping, he turned to see that the old Master, Tunivor, one of the members of the Queen's counsel, was addressing him.

Eragon greeted him grandly in the Ancient Language. "Atra du evarínya ono varda."

_Eragon, _Bid'Daum interjected then. _I cannot fly, for if I do I may be seen. I am exceedingly bored. Come and see me when you can,_ the Dragon said, slowly withdrawing from Eragon's mind.

_I will,_ he quickly promised.

"You appear lost, Eragon-vodhr," he heard the Master say as he turned his attention back to the old Elf.

"Yes, I do believe I am," Eragon replied. "Ellesmere is so much changed even in these past two short years. I cannot recall how to return home."

A wistful tone entered the old, wise Master's voice as he answered, "I do believe that Ellesmere is not the only thing that has changed much these past two years. You yourself are greatly altered." The Master's eyes flitted over him. Eragon could only imagine how different he looked. "But," continued the old Master, "you need not remember the way home just now. A room for you has been prepared in my house so that you may stay longer in Ellesmere."

Eragon conveyed his gratitude in the Ancient Language and followed Master Tunivor to his elegantly grand home among the trees. Once the Master showed Eragon his new room and the young Elf again conveyed his gratitude, the old Elf left him.

Entering his new quarters, Eragon found another outfit of ornately carved leather and embroidered cloth. Running his hand over the leather, Eragon felt repulsed. He knew he would not wear it. Master Tunivor was a wise Elf, but he was not an Elf known for his magical talents. Only the most adept magicians among the Elves would yet understand Eragon's aversion of eating meat, though he had himself once loved the sustenance.

Eragon's fingers strayed to the embroidered cloth shirt. So as not to offend his host, he slipped off the shirt from the healers and slipped on the elegantly embroidered shirt. On the bed under the shirt lay his father's sword. A pain stabbed Eragon's heart as he brushed his fingers over the hilt before silently strapping the sword belt around his waist.

As he moved, a folded paper fluttered to the floor. Eragon bent to pick it up, realizing that it was a note scribed with elegant lettering. He sighed with relief to see that it was written in the Ancient Language.

The letter read, "I imagined that you would soon recover, and I am glad that you are well again. Today is the Harvest Festival. I am sure that you would love to join once again in our wondrous festivities." It was signed by Ildrid, the mate of Master Tunivor. 

Silently, Eragon slipped out into the streets. He decided upon following the lesser-traveled paths, hoping to avoid the curious Elven crowds. Opening his mind, he brushed over the forest and creatures around him. A thought of Lilathnia trickled unsummoned through his mind. He longed to see her.

As he walked, a thin strand of music floated to Eragon's ears. It was a lively, happy tune, a song of his childhood from all the past harvest festivals.

His mind wandered over the forests around him again and ahead to the festival. Something flitted against the side of his mind, catching his attention. Not far from the festival, a lone Elf wandered through the outer edge of the forest. With a jolt, he realized that is was Lilathnia. Unbidden, Eragon's feet quickened in her direction.

"Lilathnia," Eragon breathed her name as he approached her.

At the sound of her name, she whirled around, startled, her hand to her mouth.

"I'm sorry. I didn't meant to startle you," Eragon apologized softly, approaching slowly. He was suddenly all too aware that they were quite a distance away from the festival in an intimately secluded grove of pines.

Lilathnia found her voice and said, "Eragon! I did not even hear you approach." She looked curiously at him. "What are you doing up and about? You should still be resting."

Eragon chuckled. "And miss all of the festivities?" He walked steadily towards her, his eyes locked on hers. He did not come for the festivities. He came to see her.

"You look well," she commented, calmly glancing over him. "I am amazed you recovered so quickly."

"I heal fast," Eragon answered vaguely, shrugging. He gestured to a moss-covered rock for Lilathnia to sit. She took the offer and gracefully perched on the edge of the rock. Eragon eased himself onto the spot beside to her. He could feel the warmth radiating from her skin, could smell the sweet lilac scent floating from her hair, could feel the pureness of her breath washing over him.

Too late Eragon realized he was sitting too close. "Forgive me," Eragon mumbled, embarrassed, sliding away from her. "I have been away for far too long," he explained lamely.

A soft giggle escaped from Lilathnia's lips. "Yes, you have," she noted with amusement. She glanced away towards the festival and the music. "Do you still remember how to dance?" she asked, glancing sideways at Eragon.

Before he could form a response, Lilathnia leapt to her feet. She grabbed hold of his hand and led him deeper into the forest until they emerged into an opening. They stood in the field together for a moment, surrounded by tall grasses and bowering flower bushes. Lilathnia began to spin around in circles in time to the music, arms outstretched to the sky.

Lilathnia stopped and stretched a beckoning hand out to him. "Come, Eragon. An Elven maiden cannot dance alone."

Eragon, unable to resist anything that she asked, bounded to her side. He took her offered hand in his own. His arms were around her in a moment, and they were spinning and laughing together. Eragon's heart swelled with happiness as Lilathnia's tilted her head up to the sky, lost in time to the music and feel of his arms around her.

Far too soon the song ended, though it had felt like a joyful eternity to Eragon. They stopped moving with the end of the song, but they did not release their hold on one another. Their eyes met.

Without thinking, Eragon dipped his head towards her and brushed his lips over hers. He paused then, waiting for her response. She responded instantly, winding her fingers through his hair and returning his kiss with a whole-hearted sweetness that sent shivers up his spine and a longing through his body. Though brief, the kiss seemed to bind him even closer to Lilathnia. He felt more hers than his own, almost just as he felt with Bid'Daum.

_Bid'Daum!_ With the thought of his Dragon, Eragon's heart sank. Surely his destiny would veer from hers. He was different now, more than anyone could ever guess or understand. He was an outcast, a lone Elf with a lone Dragon for a friend. Not even Lilathnia could accept so much of something that she could never understand. She would forever be at arm's length from him.

Gently, with an overwhelming inward sorrow, Eragon pulled away from Lilathnia. A sharp, dull pain seared through his chest as he moved away from her.

_Eragon,_ a deep voice echoed sympathetically in his mind.

_Bid'Daum_, Eragon acknowledged. He tried to hide his feelings from Bid'Daum, but his wretchedness stung and festered unwillingly across their connection. A feeling of sorrow came from Bid'Daum, adding to Eragon's bitter heartbreak.

"Eragon?" Lilathnia looked up at him puzzled and bewildered. _Have I hurt her feelings?_ he wondered. She hesitantly brushed her hand against his cheek. "What is it?

Eragon swallowed hard. _What can I say?_ He reached up and took her hand gently in his own, looking down at their intertwining fingers before he spoke.

"I am not the Elf that I once was two years ago, Lilathnia," he tried to begin.

"We all change, Eragon," she interrupted, comforting him. "What is it that is bothering you?"

Eragon took a deep breath. "Ah, nevermind," he evaded, once again meeting her confused eyes. "It's nothing." He gave her his most charming smile, hoping to brush aside the momentary unease.

Lilathnia opened her mouth to press him for answers, but a loud announcement from the festival interrupted her. "The sword tournament is about to begin! All able bodied swordfighters come to the main square to battle for the title of greatest swordsmaster!"

"The sword tournament!" Lilathnia exclaimed. She glanced down at his father's sword slung on his hip. "Eragon, you should enter! I have entered as well."

Eragon laughed at the hideous suggestion. "Lilathnia, I have not touched a sword in years. I will simply embarrass myself."

"Nonsense. You were always a good swordfighter. You have a talent. You just don't forget how to use a talent," Lilathnia encouraged him.

"I don't know," Eragon hesitated before Lilathnia lightly grabbed his arm.

"Come on! I will not let you wiggle out of this."

So Eragon allowed Lilathnia to drag him away to his imminent embarrassment, feeling a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Eragon watched with passive interest as the contestants battled one another for supremacy.

_Bid'Daum_, he called in unease.

_Eragon_, the Dragon chuckled in greeting.

_I don't want to do this. I'll look like a fool._

Bid'Daum rumbled with laughter. _Ah, Eragon. It may be quite fun. You never know, but perhaps you will do far better than you actually think._

_Hardly_, the young Elf snorted.

Bid'Daum rumbled again with laughter. _I believe in you. You may be surprised at what you can do. You are much stronger than you once were when we first met._ He felt Eragon's disbelief. _Look at yourself, Eragon!_

Eragon ignored Bid'Daum and turned back to the dueling contestants at hand.

All of the contestants were proficient swordfighters. Some were Masters. A few appeared neigh unbeatable with a speed that made their swords appear nearly invisible. Nervousness wrestled in his stomach.

Eragon watched uneasily as Lilathnia entered the lists for her first match. She fought well with a flawless grace and swift, smooth parries and blows. Her opponent was stronger, but she was faster. The challenge lasted for a few interminable minutes before Lilathnia finally disarmed her opponent and was declared the winner of the match. She returned to Eragon's side, a smug, pleased expression on her face.

"Your opponent is Fiolr," she whispered to him. "He is not the best, but he is considered one who has the talent to become one of the greatest."

"Great," Eragon replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Lilathnia glanced at him strangely. Again too late, Eragon realized that sarcasm was not an Elven trait. It was a Dragon's trait_. A Dragon trait!_ Eragon thought morbidly, hoping Lilathnia did not notice. _Not that anyone here would know that anyway…._

"Eragon, son of Elor, and Fiolr, son of Acallamh," a Master and member of the Queen's counsel announced.

"You will do great," Lilathnia encouraged, patting his arm as he walked towards the lists.

Bid'Daum rumbled with laughter at his disquiet.

Eragon approached the center of the field. Fiolr drew close and unsheathed his sword. Eragon saluted the Elf respectfully and drew his father's sword. _My sword now_, he corrected himself. His opponent froze and hesitated before returning the old-fashioned gesture that was once a custom from a forgotten earlier age.

The Elf began to circle Eragon. Eragon felt his heart pounding heavily, but he bounced lightly on the balls of his feet, readying himself. His senses were alert. Strength, energy, and unbidden eagerness flowed forcefully through his veins.

The other Elf struck first. Eragon blocked the swift blow with ease. Fiolr struck and stabbed again, tentatively testing Eragon for his weaknesses. To Eragon, the Elf seemed to be moving a little too slow.

Suddenly, Fiolr fell upon Eragon with a series of blows, trying to force him back. Left and right the Elf struck. Left and right Eragon easily parried, settling comfortably into a defensive position. After a few minutes of his continuos, frenzied attack, Fiolr's breathing became laborious. Eragon quickly switched from defensive to offensive, driving his opponent back across the sparring filed. The Elf barely brought his sword up in time to block each of his swift blows. Sweat dripped down Fiolr's forehead and nervousness flickered in his eyes as Eragon steadily advanced upon him without any sign of fatigue or weakness. With a flick of Eragon's wrist, Fiolr's sword flew from his hand, clanking to the ground several yards away. Eragon rested the tip of his sword at the base of the Elf's neck.

"Surrender?" he prompted.

"Yield!" Fiolr called to the Masters of the tournament.

Eragon lowered his sword. The silent, surprised crowd erupted into a happily surprised applause. Ducking his head, he walked briskly off the field to Lilathnia.

"I thought you said you hadn't touched a sword in years," she accused in a teasing tone.

"I haven't," he replied honestly.

Bid'Daum rumbled humorously. _Told you. I knew you would be good._

Eragon rolled his eyes in affectionate amusement and listlessly watched the continuing tournament. He felt suddenly uncomfortable when he noticed the gazes of several Elves upon him as the tournament continued. Eragon forced himself to ignore their stares and watch the tournament.

As the tournament continued, Lilathnia lost her next match, and Eragon won his next two. By the time the last match was announced, the sunlight was already slanting at an acute angle, threatening that the sun was soon about to set.

For the last match, the Master of the tournament announced, "Eragon, son of Elor, and Master Laetri."

Lilathnia leaned in towards him and whispered, "Master Laetri is by far the best. He is a member of the Counsel, and he wins every year. To make it this far at all means that you are among the best. No one even expects you to win. He is unbeatable. You would be considered the best of the tournament even if you lose."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Eragon muttered. He twinged as he realized he had again used sarcasm. Bid'Daum really had rubbed off on him, far more than even he had thought, a further reminder of just how much he had changed since he'd left Ellesmere.

Lilathnia did not seem to notice his sarcasm. _Or even my comment_, he realized as he watched her stare at the Master with a deep admiration and… _adoration?_ A strange emotion rippled through Eragon. _If only she would gaze upon me like that_.

_Interesting_, Bid'Daum rumbled as he tasted Eragon's emotions. _That's a new one to me._

_It's called jealousy_, the young Elf snapped. Bid'Daum hummed in reply.

Eragon brushed the Dragon's thoughts away from his mind and tried again with Lilathnia. "He is that good?"

"Yes," Lilathnia breathed.

Eragon glanced over the Master as he entered the lists. _Strange_, thought Eragon. He could not remember the Elf from his childhood, though surely he should have. _Especially with the way she is staring at him._

"I'll beat him," Eragon whispered in her ear before striding away towards the field.

"I never knew foolish pride was one of your attributes," he heard her say to his back.

He turned just long enough to throw an impish grin her direction.

_Oh, Dragons_, he thought. _If I lose…._

_If you lose, you will not receive Lilathnia's adoring smiles_, Bid'Daum finished for him, a mocking tone lilting in his voice.

_You're a great help, Bid'Daum, you know that?_

Of course I know it. I thought maybe you'd forgotten….Just don't lose, Bid'Daum tormented.

Taking a steadying breath, Eragon stepped forward, saluting the Master just as he had for all his other opponents. The Master returned the gestured with ease and without surprise.

_Laetri!_ Eragon suddenly exclaimed to Bid'Daum. _Now I remember. He's a Shadeslayer! The only one to ever kill a Shade among our people! He's a legend. They made him a Master for it._

Bid'Daum was silent for a moment, reviewing Eragon's memories for what a Shade was. _Good luck with him._

_Good luck with him? Good luck with him! You don't even believe in luck! This Master is going to humiliate me! Pound me into Dragon bait._

Bid'Daum growled. _No one is going to ground you into anything._

_No, only my pride_, Eragon moaned.

_Your complaining sounds as bad as when those accursed Fanghurs screech_, Bid'Daum rumbled, shuddering at the memory of the sound. _You'll do fine._

Eragon rolled his eyes, unease clenching his stomach.

_Remember,_ hummed Bid'Daum with amusement, _Liliathna will admire you for all time if you defeat the Shadeslayer in this mock duel._

_Bid'Daum, if you weren't a Dragon…_, Eragon trailed off, leaving the unfinished threat hanging in the air.

Bid'Daum's roaring laughter filled his mind as Eragon unsheathed his white sword.

_Have fun,_ the Dragon said.

Eragon nervously shifted his sword from one hand to the other before finally leaving it in the grasp of his right hand. He wanted to roll his shoulders and hop on the balls of his feet as he had before, feeling the rush of blood and energy flowing through his veins. But his dread of humiliating defeat kept him held firmly still.

"Begin!" called the Master of the tournament.

The two Elves slowly circled one another, studying one another. Without any warning, Master Laetri struck at Eragon, his sword posed to deliver a possible deathblow. Without thought, Eragon instinctively blocked the blow. Pushing away from the Master's blade, Eragon twirled and swung at the Elf's legs. The Elf jumped over his blade, slashing his own sword up towards Eragon's face. Eragon quickly sidestepped the swipe, feinted and stabbed at his opponent. Laetri blocked the blow and moved to attack again.

The two Elves intensely exchanged blows as if locked in a glorious eternal battle, their furious strikes sending the ringing sound of metal against metal across the field and their blades becoming nearly invisible with their fervent speed. Sweat poured from their sides, but neither wavered. At times, a grin stretched across the Master's face, the Master glad to finally have a worthy opponent yet still assured of his victory over the incapable youth.

The two combatants disappeared in a blur of moving forms, the sound of clashing sounds continuing to ring through the air. At last, all movement ceased, and the field fell silent. The crowd gasped. The Master lay on his back on the ground. His sword lay several feet from his hand, and he stared, propped up on his elbows, in shock at the young Elf standing over him, sword tip thrust into the soft dip between his collar bones, neck embarrassingly exposed under the sharp point.

After a shocked moment, the Master composed his expression and called to the Masters overseeing the tournament, "Surrender!"

The crowd erupted in wild applause.

"Eragon, son of Elor," the Master overseeing the tournament announced, "you are the winner, and this great honor has been bestowed upon you. Eragon, Master of the Tournament!"

The crowd of elves surged towards him and surrounded him. A champion's wreath of flowers was placed upon his head. Strong hands slapped his back in congratulations. Still cheering, the Elves lifted him onto their shoulders, Eragon grasping the shoulders of the nearest Elves and feeling unsettled by the rambunctious crowd. Bewildered, he desperately searched for Lilathnia, but she was lost somewhere amid a sea of faces.

_See? You won_, Bid'Daum pointed out, smug with satisfaction. _Told you so, in fact, as I recall._

_If you say so_, Eragon answered wryly, recalling Bid'Daum's moment of doubt. _Good luck, you know_, he added with a dry, sarcastic smile as the crowd carried him away on their shoulders.

With one last glance, he searched for Lilathnia through the crowd of Elves in the growing twilight, but still, he could not find her. With a twinge of sadness and disappointment in his chest, he gave himself over to the ecstasy of the cheering crowd, enjoying their acceptance and his brief moment as Master of the Tournament.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

_Blood poured from Eragon's side. A deep residing pain spread through his abdomen as he lifted his head to see Lilathnia standing over him. A more terrible pain seized his chest as he registered the meaning of the look in her eyes—distrust, horror, disdain…directed at him._

_He bowed his head to the pain._

Eragon!_ Bid'Daum called._

Get out of here!_ he shouted in agony in his mind. _Don't come back here! I'll be fine.

_Eragon could feel the struggle in the Dragon's mind._

If you come back, they will kill you. And if they kill you, it will cause me far more pain than anything they could think to inflict upon me. Now go!_ he shouted._

_Finally, he felt Bid'Daum receding into the distance. His voice traveled back to the Elf, suddenly fierce. _I will do as you say, but know this Eragon, if they kill you, I will bring war and wrath upon the Elves, the likes of which they have never before seen. I have no love for your kind, only for you. And I will rip them to shreds before I crawl away and die in peace if anything happens to you._ The vehemence in his voice scared Eragon, but he was glad knowing that at least one creature in all of Alagaesia cared for him. He embraced the Dragon's mind with his own, savoring the touch of his only friend until his mind finally faded away into the far distance._

_Eragon could hear other Elves flocking around him, but he refused to look back up at them. Their hatred did not bother him, but the memory of the look in Lilathnia's eyes seared through him with hot, fresh pain._

"_I told you he was crazy, no good," he heard someone say._

"_Dwindles with some forbidden dark magic," another muttered._

"_Traitor!" an Elf cried in a shrill voice. Others repeated and carried the awful charge through the gathering crowd._

_As if in reply to the charge, his body collapsed, his strength failing him as his dark blood flowed over his pale hand and pooled greedily on the ground._

Eragon jerked awake, tears streaming down his face as his body shook uncontrollably. His hand urgently clenched at his abdomen, fervently making certain that it had only been a dream. Feeling the smooth skin unmarred but for the scars from the Fanghurs, Eragon sighed in relief and collapsed back onto his bed. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he rolled over and groaned as a wave of fear overcame him. _So many of my dreams have come true, and many of them have been awful. Now, it seems, I have more tragedy to live through._ Eragon kicked the blankets off his body and leapt to his feet. _I can take no more!_ His hands pulled desperately at his hair.

Glancing angrily around the room searching for something to do to occupy his mind, Eragon realized that he had not seen Bid'Daum since he had arrived in Ellesmere. His isolation from his Dragon was nearly unbearable, though Bid'Daum's closer hiding place finally allowed them to communicate easily.

_Bid'Daum_, Eragon called to his Dragon.

The Dragon's mind rustled in reply as he began to stir awake.

_I'm coming to see you today, Bid'Daum._

Eragon felt the Dragon lift his head, unfurl his wings, and yawn, his tongue outstretched and tasting the morning air. _I will be waiting for you. It will be so wonderful to see you with mine own eyes again._

The young Elf sprang from his bed, quickly threw on his clothes, and slipped silently out the door of his temporary abode and into an early morning fog. The sun was only beginning to creep over the sky, and the streets of Ellesmere were quiet. Eragon walked at a brisk pace until he reached the edge of Ellesmere. Once he left the city, the Elf ran with all the speed his strong, limber body could muster. The fog swirled around him as he ran, settling serenely back in place behind him. The muted colors of the foggy forest swam by Eragon as he dashed passed.

The forest split open to a rocky ridge. Impatience spurring him on, the lithe Elf threw himself at the rock face, climbing up the side of the steep ridge. Reaching the top, Eragon sprang onto flat, solid ground. Glancing around him, he saw a flat stone terrace leading to a secluded cave. Turning to glance behind him, he realized that the cave was sequestered on a rocky cliffside. The dense, green forest stretched out far below, swathed in the thick, eerie fog.

The air vibrated as the thunderous sound of beating wings reached Eragon's ears. Spinning around, he watched as Bid'Daum dropped to the rock terrace, the ground shaking as the white Dragon's great bulk pounded down onto it. Rock fragments shattered around the Dragon's claws.

_You've grown bigger!_ Eragon exclaimed.

_So I have_, Bid'Daum answered with smug satisfaction.

Eragon reached up to run his hands over the Dragon's glistening, white scales. _I've never had to reach this high before_, he said in wonder.

_Dragon's never stop growing,_ Bid'Daum informed him, clenching and unclenching his massive claws beneath him.

The young Elf sighed. _You look so grand, Bid'Daum. It's easy to forget that you are mortal._

The Dragon snorted smoke. _Hardly mortal._

Eragon weakly laughed in reply.

Bid'Daum flicked his tongue out of his mouth, tasting the air and the Elf's emotions. _What is troubling you, Eragon?_

When he did not answer, the Dragon brushed his mind through the young Elf's.

_Hmmm_, Bid'Daum hummed in understanding. _Another dream._

_I have not dreamed in so long, Bid'Daum. At least, not since I found you. I was beginning to think that they had gone away…,_ Eragon trailed off.

_But now your dreams have returned_, the Dragon finished.

Eragon fidgeted under the thought. _I hate the dreams. I don't want them!_

_They seem to tell you of the future. What is so wrong with that?_

_I do not think that such mortal creatures as we should know of the future. It can only drive an Elf mad!_

_Peace, Eragon,_ Bid'Daum rumbled, reaching out his mind to calm his small, two-legged friend.

_How possibly can I?_ Eragon cried, running a hand through his shaggy, sandy hair.

_Your dreams did not tell you that Lilathnia survived, but she did_, Bid'Daum softly reminded him, stretching his long body before curling into a ball on the rocky terrace.

Eragon huffed and let his body fall onto the rock next to Bid'Daum, resting his head against his Dragon's warm side. _Things were so easy with my father when I was a child._

_You are a child no more._ Bid'Daum swung his head over his shoulder to look Eragon level in the eyes. _You are a warrior. A child is not strong enough to fight against a war and the hatred of races. A child is not strong enough to have these dreams and then face them when they come true. But a warrior is strong enough._

Eragon avoided Bid'Daum's eyes as he answered, _Not even great warriors can achieve such feats._

The Dragon suddenly growled, a low and menacing sound in his throat. Eragon jerked his head up to see at what he was growling.

He jumped, for Bid'Daum was growling at him. _Do not have so little faith, Eragon. There is great love in your heart, a great love for this land and our races. For this love you will do what no one has yet been able to achieve!_

Eragon starred into his Dragon's eyes, the white eyes that looked like the enchanting crests of the waves of the sea. _And you will not be alone in any of this. You have me. I will always be by your side, as you will always be by mine._

The Elf gasped as images began to float across the Dragon's eyes. The white foam of the sea's waves swirled in his bottomless eyes. Eragon could see himself and Bid'Daum standing on a high cliff, gazing out over the sea. The young Elf felt a deep calm washing over him at the sight.

_I'd like to see the sea one day_, Eragon said.

_After all this it over, I will take you there_, Bid'Daum assured him. _I promise._


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

_Eragon_, Bid'Daum hummed.

The young Elf rolled in his soft bed, stirring from his deep sleep.

_Eragon!_ the Dragon shouted.

The Elf jumped from his bed to his feet, wide eyed and frazzled.

_Bid'Daum! What is it?_ Eragon cried, alarmed. He glanced around his room, momentarily bewildered at his surroundings. _What has happened?_

The Dragon's rumbling laughter reached Eragon's mind_. Forgotten where you are already, have you?_

He blinked several times before relaxing his tense, bunched shoulders. _I am in Ellesmere_, he thought.

The Dragon roared with laughter. _Very good, Eragon. That's one for one so far today._

The Elf scowled at his Dragon's sarcasm. _I thought we were back in the forests of DuWeldenvarden, just the two of us, before all of this began._

_I still _am_ in the forests of DuWeldenvarden_, Bid'Daum pointed out with humor.

Eragon groaned. _Do not tease me today, Bid'Daum._ Rubbing his eyes, he sank tiredly back down onto his bed. _Why did you wake me? It is not yet dawn._

Bid'Daum tisked. _What could possibly happen to a grand and mighty Dragon such as I?_

Eragon ignored his teasing, burying his head in his hands, and said, _I thought the Elves discovered you._

_Interesting you should surmise that_, Bid'Daum hummed. _I woke you because, though I have not yet been discovered, there is an Elf headed my way._

"Bid'Daum!" Eragon shouted aloud. He leapt to his feet, his hand already grasping the white sword he slept with on his bed. _Are you sure it is an Elf?_

_Would I ever make such a mistake? He stinks the same as you and is noisier than a wild boar,_ Bid'Daum confirmed.

_I'm on my way! _he shouted, ignoring the Dragon's insult of his Elvin scent.

So alarmed was the young Elf that he did not even stop to pull on his new suede boots, gifted to him from his gracious host. Eragon padded through the grassy streets of Ellesmere on silent bare feet. The morning was still and quiet, for no one was awake. The dawn was just beginning, frosting only the rim of the sky with a frosty pink.

Reaching the forest edge, Eragon spurred himself into a swift pace, gliding and leaping adroitly and effortlessly through the trees and foliage. As he ran to the east, streaks of a faint orange and purple sunrise peeked through the dark boughs of the forest overhead.

_Ah, I believe it is your friend, the Master Nolfavrell_, Bid'Daum spoke again, at last.

_Master Nolfavrell_! Eragon exclaimed, his stomach clenching.

_Hurry, Eragon. He is drawing near. I'd hate to rip your new friend to pieces and eat him if he sees me_, the Dragon hummed. Eragon suddenly received a mental image—Bid'Daum licking his jaws, savoring the meat of an Elf Master.

The thought made him run faster. _Not funny, Bid'Daum_, he scolded.

_I thought it w_as, the Dragon rumbled with his sarcastic humor.

Eragon passed under an overgrown berry vine, pushing it aside as he swept by, and found himself suddenly bounding upon Master Nolfavrell. He stopped in his tracks, sliding to a halt a foot from the Old Master.

Master Nolfavrell jolted, startled. "Eragon-vodhr!" he cried, stumbling back. "My, you frightened me!" The old Elf swallowed several times, trying to calm his beating heart, and the young Elf tried to ignore the cloud of dust his abrupt halt had kicked into the air.

The Old Master's eyes flickered over the young Elf, from his pale face to his bare feet. "Is everything alright, Eragon?"

He fumbled for an answer, finding himself curiously hindered and unable to lie in the Ancient Language. Never were there lies between he and Bid'Daum, and he had told everyone the truth since his arrival – albeit omitting a few details and a certain white Dragon.

The Old Master laughed good-naturedly. "I see that I startled you just as much as you startled me. I suspect you are used to running the woods without ever answering to or encountering another soul."

Eragon mutely nodded, silently grateful for the save.

_Werecat catch your tongue?_ Bid'Daum taunted.

_Hardly the time for jokes,_ Eragon scolded, brushing Bid'Daum's thoughts away and addressing the Old Master, bowing in the old custom and saying, "Atra du evarínya ono varda." When the Old Master did not return the greeting and instead lowered himself onto a moss-covered log, breathless and huffing, he said, "Forgive me, Master, but is it safe to be so far out from the city? In Dragon territory?"

The Master laughed as Eragon cringed at the irony of his words. "Ah, I am an old Elf," he said. "I don't think I'd make a very tasty meal for any animal, let alone a Dragon." His laughter echoed in the dell.

_That's for sure_, Bid'Daum chimed.

Eragon flicked his eyes over the Master Elf. His childhood memories of him had been of a vital magician Elf, fearsome as well as wise. Now, he finally noticed the aging he had failed to see at their first meeting. Grey hair hung around the Elf's ears, his hands curled with age, and there was a slight misstep in his gait.

"If I may ask, what is it that you are doing so far out this way?" he asked the Master.

"Oh, I was meditating, expanding my mind to take in the wildlife."

Eragon nodded. The magic that aided him since his bonding with Bid'Daum rarely left him with a moment's peace, the world and wildlife constantly pressing upon his mind. The awareness of life followed him like a stalking predator, he unable to escape and pressed from all sides. Though he appreciated the awareness, it's constant presence often overwhelmed him. Silently, he wondered if the Elf Master also declined eating meat.

"You expand your mind? You don't hear it all the time?" he finally queried.

The Old Elf tilted his head to the side, curiously regarding Eragon. The young Elf struggled against the urge to fidget under the Master's intense stare. "Of course. One can open his mind and close his mind, though it is almost always harder to open the mind." He paused for a moment, fingered the corner of his lip in thought. After a moment, he spoke his thoughts aloud. "Eragon-vodhr, long ago, you were once a promising student of mine. Would you consider becoming my apprentice in magic once again?"

_His apprentice in magic?_ Bid'Daum hummed. _Interesting…._

Eragon stood completely still, stunned and anxious at the turn in conversation.

"It is clear that you are already naturally gifted in magic, if just your enhanced strength and speed are any indication," the Master said thoughtfully.

"My strength? My speed?" Eragon asked, confused. His gut twisted in anxiety, afraid that he had somehow once more painfully stood out from his Elven brethren.

Master Nolfavrell shot him a frank stare. "Do you think anyone would mistaken your speed and strength in the tournament as anything other than magically enhanced?" The Master paused and chuckled mirthlessly. "Indeed, some magicians among the Elves believe that you are a shade, possessed by spirits, but anyone who isn't blind to the obvious can see that you are too good natured to be possessed."

_Possessed?_ Eragon repeated in his mind, mulling over the implications, a shiver rushing up his spine.

The Dragon hummed gravely in Eragon's mind. _Yes_. _Possessed by a Dragon_! Bid'Daum's roaring laughter erupted in Eragon's mind.

_What is with all this humor today? _the Elf questioned._ You are in such a ruckus mood lately. It leaves me feeling unnerved._

_I'm lonely. I must amuse myself somehow while you are constantly cavorting with Lilathnia day and night. I don't have a mate, you know_, Bid'Daum mourned dramatically.

_She's not my mate_, Eragon blushed furiously, distressed and worried by his Dragon's behavior.

The Dragon hummed again_. Don't worry so much_, he chided. _My solitude leaves me in strange humors. I am still so unused to you not being constantly by my side._

The Elf frowned, his forehead creasing with his worry. _I will come visit you as soon as I can draw away the Master_, he promised, a pang of guilt heavy in his stomach.

"Well, Eragon?" the old Master prompted, regaining the young Elf's wandering attention.

Eragon coughed, embarrassed. _What do you think, Bid'Daum_? he silently asked, hoping for his Dragon's serious opinion.

The Dragon replied in his deep rumbling voice. _It would be wise to continue your studies. Your knowledge of magic is rather limited. I'm not entirely certain how you were able to forge the bond spell between us so well._

Eragon felt goaded. _Your compliments overwhelm me._

_You have the words, but not the knowledge of magic's limitations and intricacies_, his Dragon stated without wavering. _Without my vast power, surely the bonding spell would have killed you._

The young Elf nodded to himself as though his Dragon was there to see his agreement.

"Eragon-vodhr?" The Master cleared his throat.

Blinking once, Eragon came back to his present place and solemnly accented. "Yes, Master Nolfavrell. I would be honored to be your student once more."

The old Master smiled, slowly rising to his weary feet. "Shall we meet later today? I'd like for you to meet a few of my close friends and fellow magicians."

"Yes, Master Nolfavrell," Eragon agreed, bowing in the old fashioned manner as the old Elf departed.

Eragon watched for a moment as the Master trudged away, the slight limp in his gait, and wondered at what had just transpired. _I wonder if I made the right decision_, he thought uneasily.

_I have a feeling he will be a good ally for us to have in the future,_ Bid'Daum said, breaking into the Elf's restless thoughts.

_Aren't you glad you didn't eat him_? Eragon grinned, smug, as he picked up his feet and ran to greet his beloved Dragon in the flesh.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

_I never thought there would be so much to learn about magic_, Eragon marveled, a chill of nervous excitement running up his spine as the cool morning breeze brushed over his flushed skin.

Bid'Daum hummed in reply as Eragon rushed to meet Master Nolfavrell. The Elf breathed deep the scent of pine, swiftly running and leaping over and under the forest boughs. Within another breath, he was within reach of the Master's house.

As he knocked on the Elf's wooden door, sung—as he had come to learn—from the trunk of an elm tree, Bid'Daum asked, _Did you remember your gloves?_ The knock echoed sharply in the woods around him.

Eragon glanced down at his hands and gaped in horror at his bare knuckles. _No! I must have left them with you after our last ride._

Bid'Daum cringed with worry. _Be careful, Eragon_, he cautioned.

Before Eragon could change his mind and make a run for it, the wooden door creaked opened. The old Elf, slightly hunched over and clear-eyed, pursed his lips in a wry smile, looking genuinely pleased at the arrival of his new companion.

"Atra du evarínya ono varda," Eragon forced himself to say in greeting, awkwardly bowing the customary bow, worrying for the silvery mark on his palm, open and bare to sight.

"Atra esterní ono thelduin," the Master greeted.

The young Elf held his hand self-consciously behind his back as he finished the greeting. "Atra guliä un ilian tauthr ono un atra ono waíse sköliro fra rauthr."

"Please, come in," the Master Elf said, steeping aside and sweeping his hand into his home.

Eragon entered, jerking the hand behind his back awkwardly away from the elder Elf as he passed, and settled onto his usual spot on the Master's woven rug before the open fireplace. Living so long in the forests had left Eragon with a curious fascination for finer things – carpets, paintings, sculptures, swords and other finely forged weapons. He breathed deeply the scent of the Elf's home—cloves and smoked wood from the fireplace. A deep feeling of comfort and contentment washed over him as he glanced around the room, waiting for the Master Elf as he brewed their customary drink.

Light from the fireplace flickered warmly over a wooden table littered with the Old Elf's writings and the walls plastered with drawings and sketches and blueprints of buildings and projects. One sketch depicted a hall sung from a row of giant, ancient trees instead of cut and dead beams—the effect was exquisite and magnificent. _The perfect blend of nature and civilization_, Eragon thought. Another diagram showcased how the road system in Ellesmere might be better executed and organized. It left Eragon marveling at the old Master's talents, and feeling his own educational inadequacy. _I hope his designs become real for him one day_, he thought, wishing for a brighter future for his race.

The Master soon returned, a cup of steaming broth in each hand. They sipped their drinks as they settled into their studies, comfortably exchanging knowledge and experience and thought on magic. As their lesson and discussion continued, Eragon soon forgot about his gloveless hands.

Throughout their first several lessons, the young Elf had quickly come to realize that he indeed had a vastly superior strength and much more natural grasp of magic than the Master – much thanks to his connection with Bid'Daum – but he did not know its limitations, how to wield it properly, or its rules of engagement anywhere near the Master's vast range of knowledge.

"You must practice control," the Master told him. Gesturing to a small whetstone on the hearth of the fireplace, he continued, "Now, lift this stone with your mind, but lift it no higher than your nose, and hold it exactly there until I tell you to stop."

Eragon did as commanded and uttered the spell, "Stenr reisa!"

The Master gasped, and only then did Eragon notice the eerie white light glowing from his hand – from the gedwëy ignasia that he always kept covered. Too late, Eragon clenched his hand closed and ended the spell. The stone fell with a dull thud to the wooden floor.

He swallowed hard in the silence that followed before the Master spoke. "What happened to your hand, Eragon?" A look of genuine concern shadowed his brow.

_I'm so stupid! How could I forget?_ he berated himself.

Struggling for an answer that satisfied the Ancient Language, he finally said, "I used words for a spell that I didn't completely understand." For that much had been true. The spell that had forged the bond between he and Bid'Daum had largely been comprised of guesses. Eragon had the words of magic, and Bid'Daum had the raw strength. Each knew what they meant to happen, but the effect had been vastly stronger than either had imagined, though neither ever complained, for they both received a bond and a friendship more dear than life itself.

"I see," the Master assented, but the way he tilted his head and cast his eyes down made Eragon think that he didn't believe the young Elf was speaking the entire truth. "Well, let's try something different, shall we?" he suggested.

The Master poured water into his empty cup from a pitcher that always sat on his desk. "Today, I would like you to try scrying again."

Eragon had tried scrying many times, but he had yet to succeed. Staring into the cup of water, he breathed deeply to settle his nerves, trying concentrate and follow the instructions the Master had given him multiple times. But his only thought was, _My gedwëy ignasia!_ He said the spell and waited. When nothing happened, he sighed in frustration, clenching his closed fist even tighter.

"No, like this," the Master said absentmindedly, unexpectedly reaching for Eragon's mind.

At the faint touch, Eragon physically jumped, crying aloud. On instinct, he slashed at the mental contact, pushing it out and suffocating it. When he saw the Master wince, he recoiled, realizing who it was and feeling a harsh pang of remorse. "Forgive me, Master!" he cried. "I did not mean to—."

"Eragon, your mind," the old Master muttered, troubled. He touched his fingertips to his forehead, brushing them worriedly across his brow. "Your mind… it is so vast!" he exclaimed, old Elf's blue eyes finally rising to meet Eragon's.

"Master Nolfavrell," he began, but the Master cut him off.

"No, do not worry," he said, straightening in his seat. "I shouldn't have done that without your permission. No doubt, I scared you a great deal."

Eragon sat still as the dead, silently worrying at what the Master Elf may have glimpsed in his mind, deathly afraid that he may have seen a shadow of Bid'Daum.

_What was that?_ Bid'Daum rumbled, sounding far away._ I didn't like that. Another presence in your mind?_

_Master Nolfavrell touched my mind, trying to show me a spell,_ Eragon quickly explain.

_Treacherous creature!_ Bid'Daum growled.

_I don't think he did it intentionally. I sensed in his brief touch that it is something he does out of habit with his students._

_Nasty invasion, regardless,_ Bid'Daum countered, though Eragon absently wondered as he stared at his teacher if Bid'Daum ever felt that way when their minds touched.

_We are differe_nt, the Dragon hummed, reminding him of their past. _We are bonded this way. I do not mind your touch at all. In fact, I greatly enjoy it._ Eragon breathed a faint sigh of relief, for he felt the same as Bid'Daum. _I love you, Eragon. I always have._

He struggled not to smile outwardly as his heart warmed to his friend's words. But when he returned his attention back to the Master, his stomach soured and flipped with worry.

"Perhaps I should focus on teaching you on how to block your mind as opposed to attacking a new presence," the Master suggested, thoughtfully. He shifted easily in his seat, as if nothing strange had occurred at all. If he had any curiosity about his new pupil, he did not show it. "I did not do what I did with any malicious intention. It is just how I sometimes guide my students. But if ever you are in a battle with a magician, steeling your mind will be more important than attacking."

Eragon nodded silently, still embarrassed and afraid at what had just transpired between them. _Glowing hands and attacking my Master teacher's mind – what a terrible day!_ he inwardly groaned.

Their lesson soon came to an awkward end, student and Master each lost to their own thoughts and worries. Eragon trudged through the forests of DuWeldenvarden towards Ellesméra. As he walked he couldn't shake his feelings of misery. He was tired of hiding who he was. He was frustrated at having to conceal Bid'Daum—who felt like the other half of his soul—for fear of his safety. And he was angry at how different from his own race he had become.

As he arrived at the outskirts of Ellesmere, someone blocked his path. Eragon once again remembered to hide his palm and quickly thrust it behind his back before he turned to address the Elf.

"Master Dronuthen?" Eragon took a startled step back but did not bother with the usual greeting. He watched the Elf as his long white hair drifted in the light breeze and the wrinkles around his mouth deepened as he smiled at the youth. The Master had always left him feeling chilled, and even now, he felt the same air of menace about him.

"Perhaps we could have a chat?" the Master suggested, the words harmless in the way that they were phrased, but Eragon sensed a dark undertone, a secret meaning behind his words.

The young Elf shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and then back again. "Some other time, perhaps," he dodged, hanging emphasis on the uncertainty of his words.

"I'll hold you to it," the Elf promised, assenting for the moment. He swiveled on his heel and returned the way he had come, back into the far recesses of Ellesmere, his deep purple cloak swirling around him like a dark nightmare. Though the sun was now high and bright overhead, Eragon shivered like it was the chill of night.

_Now, there is a nasty Elf if ever I saw one_, Bid'Daum chimed, examining Eragon's view of the Elf magician.

_Aren't I the only Elf you've ever seen with your own two eyes_? he teased the Dragon.

_Your eyes are good enough to see through that one_, Bid'Daum replied confidently, though the statement brought comfort to neither of them.

Eragon returned to his borrowed guest rooms, great unease still swirling in the pit of his stomach, and fell onto his bed, exhausted and smothering his face in the soft white sheets. He drifted off to sleep and slept peacefully until dreams once again converged upon him.

_Dark smoke billowed like angry thunderclouds far away in the distances, hanging ominously over the misty green treetops of the forest, trees that were bright with fire._

Look, Bid'Daum! _he cried. _We are too late!

_A feral roar echoed across the valley, a Dragon's drumbeat of war. An orange flame of fire surged into the air from the heart of the forest, mixing a terrible mirage of peaceful blue and misty green with the marring dissonance of orange flames and red blood._

We have to stop them!_ Eragon shouted._

_The white Dragon rumbled beneath him, growling his unwavering agreement._

_Bid'Daum tipped his wing and they dipped towards the earth, slicing through the green trees and on towards the raging battle._

Eragon woke with a jolt. His clothes were drenched with his sweat, and his breath came heavy and labored. He rolled onto his side and futilely hoped for rest.

Just like everything else that day, the dream reminded him of how different and how alone he and Bid'Daum truly were.

For they were indeed a strange breed apart.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Eragon woke slowly, feeling the heat of the morning sun on his face, a soft breeze brushing his cheek. The wind carried with it the scent of the night's jasmine and the freshness of ripening summer fruit. The young Elf blinked his eyes open, shading his vision with his open palm against the bright morning sun.

Rolling out of the bed and onto his feet, he stretched, arching his back like the forest cat. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied something beneath the door.

Reaching for the sealed letter, his heart pounded as he recognized Lilathnia's writing. He read,

_Eragon-finiarel,_

_The skies are red this evening, which the ancients tell us means the morrow will be glorious._

_I cannot sleep this night, so I shall leave this request under your door for when you wake. _

_Shall we go for an adventure tomorrow and visit all our old haunts? Meet me at the old fountain at the center of Ellesmere by dawn._

_Don't you dare be late, or I shall never forgive you!_

Signed, _Lilathnia._

_What a morning delight_! he thought upon finishing the sweetest words that had ever greeted him on the morning.

The dawn was just past breaking. Eragon rushed for his clothes, just barely remembering his boots as he swept past the white curtains covering his door. He recalled then how he had loved the old fountain as a child, its weather-beaten stone chiseled to show a mythical Elf with wings.

_I am now an Elf with wings_, he thought. _How many times have I flown on the wings of Bid'Daum, viewing the world from far above and feeling the air grow chill as we soar higher and higher._

Eragon quickly arrived at the meeting place, sliding to a halt on his heels before the old fountain, but to his disappointment, he saw that he must be early, for no one was there. Taking up station beneath the wings of the Elf, he waited.

"You're late!" a voice called from above.

Craning his neck, he saw Lilathnia peering between the wings and over the head of the fountain.

"Will you never forgive me then, and stay up there forever?" he teased, his heart so light he wondered if he might float away.

Lilathnia laughed, her tinkling laughter sounding more like music than any Elf ever any right to sound.

_Actually, that is just your imagination. Her laughing noises are quite silly, just like yours_, Bid'Daum finally chimed in, but Eragon's mood could not be dampened.

She paused as though considering as she leaned against the Elf's stone head. "Well, I supposed I'll have to forgive you just this once, else I'll wake another day to find you gone, escaped back to the wild forests from whence you came!" Her smile was teasing, but Eragon was wise enough to hear the truth behind the jest.

"I'll never leave Ellesemere again, not so long as you are here!" he brazenly promised, reaching his arm over his head and offering her his hand.

Bid'Daum rumbled with laughter. _Bold today, are we, Eragon?_

The Elf tried to ignore his Dragon's comment, but he couldn't stop the red tell-tale patches of embarrassment from burning across his high cheekbones. Before he could recover himself, Lilathnia grasped his hand, jumped down at his side, and tugged him away from his thoughts.

"Come on, we haven't got the whole long year!" she urged, leading him away.

_If only you knew I'd give you the whole year if you asked it of me_, Eragon thought suddenly to himself.

"Where to first?" he breathed aloud, barely able to believe that he was once again so close to her side.

"You'll have to wait and see," she teased lightly, tossing her long, dark hair over her slender, pale shoulder.

His breath caught in his chest when he saw where they had arrived, and he said not a word as they quickly slipped between the doors of the ancient library and eased into the quiet hall.

"This way," she whispered in his ear, dropping his hand and rushing away in front of him.

She flitted between the musty rows and shelves of scrolls in a way that said she knew this place well. "Do you remember the last time we were here?" she asked, her fingers lightly dusting the scrolls, her fingers lingering here and there as if visiting with old friends.

"And we snuck into the forbidden room, full of its forbidden scrolls and secrets," he supplied, a wicked grin slowly stretching across his face.

Lilathnia giggled, her laughter tinkling and echoing through the quiet library. "And we almost got caught."

"But escaped from the clutches of the guards," he finished with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Shall we sneak back in?"

She laughed again, and Eragon shushed her in a conspiratory hiss. Grasping her hand, he tugged her towards the back of the library. He could barely contain his own merriment when he saw her sneaking glances behind to make sure no one was following.

"Don't worry," he said, pulling her to his side and whispering in her ear. "I have excellent hearing from all those years in the wild. I'll hear anyone coming."

She glanced up at him and smirked, "A couple of years in the wild and you already think you're a superior species."

"Oh, but I am," Eragon teased.

_Smooth_, Bid'Daum chimed with sarcasm. _Impress her with your arrogance._

_Be quiet, Bid'Daum_! he chided. _I don't want your commentary on my date._

The Dragon gave a mental snort. _You are absolutely right. I'm sure I'll have to relive all of this again, moment by moment, as you dream of her every night.._

Eragon rolled his eyes as he reached the doors to the forbidden room. Doors of colored glass. As Lilathnia quietly eased open the door and disappeared behind it, Eragon glanced over the images depicted in the majestic glass. Grotesque images of Dragons being de-scaled and Elves burning to death in Dragon flames shimmered in brilliant colors across the top of the door, giving way beneath it to images of a Dragon egg and a young Elf, and at the very bottom, a young Elf and Dragon soared through the skies together. _Looks_ _like someone else had the gift of prophecy_, he told Bid'daum wryly.

The Dragon said nothing, but Eragon could feel both his unease and his curiosity.

He followed Lilathnia and slipped through the doors. The same cases encasing the same scrolls stood around the room as the last time he was there. The same scroll lay open in the same case as before, just exactly as he remembered.

"I guess some things don't change," he muttered, as Bid'Daum viewed Eragon's memory of this place in curious silence.

"Do you remember this?" Lilathnia asked, crossing to the case, opening it, and slipping out the open scroll. Aloud she read,

"Out of the ashes of a fallen empire,

Out of the darkness of war,

Through the heat of the dragon's fire,

A bond shall be forged.

A glimmer of hope shall shine,

A flame of peace shall blaze,

Until the start of another age.

Eragon swallowed hard as she read. The first time, he had disregarded it. In the wild with Bid'Daum, it had taken on a serious meaning. Now, he couldn't escape how ominously it sounded like him and Bid'Daum. A bond forged? A new age? _Well, we will either both be murdered if we are ever found out, or the order of things will have to change_, he thought, though neither thought brought him much peace of mind.

The longer he stayed in Ellesmere, the clearer it became that he and Bid'Daum would have little chance to live in peace in the forests again unless he turned at this very moment and ran from the library, this city, this civilization. _Why do I stay?_ he wondered.

"As I recall, you called it witless poetry," Lilathnia said, breaking into his thoughts. "Do you still think the same now?" There was a lilt of teasing in her voice that reassured the spooked Elf that she was unaware of his thoughts.

"Horrid as ever," he recovered himself and offered as answer.

She laughed again, softly, shaking her head in amusement, and moved to another scroll. "I haven't been here since we were last here together," she whispered.

Eragon barely heard her words. The walls suddenly felt too encroaching, too suffocating—like his doom was hunting him and he was supposed to run.

"Shall we go somewhere else?" he asked too abruptly.

She looked up in confusion, a fine eyebrow raised in silent questioning. Eragon took a shuddering breath and tried to grin again, but not even Lilathnia was convinced by his bravado.

Without questioning him, she smiled reassuringly and said, "Of course. There is someplace I want you to see, someplace very special."

She slipped her fingers through his and led him away from the scroll of prophecy, past the rows and shelves of musty scrolls, and out onto a wandering path leading through a thinning wood. At the end of the path, he saw their destination.

"This is our old school," he said, but his voice held in it a silent questions. _What is so special about this place? _he wondered.

"It's not a school anymore. It's been turned into a garden," Lilathnia informed him, leading the way through two broad doors sung from two poplar trees.

Inside, the ceiling vaulted as high as the oldest trees in DuWeldenvarden, for indeed, it was the living, breathing hall in the sketches on Master Nolfavrell's wall. Two rows of tall, grand redwood trees comprised the columns of the hall. Their branches stretched high over head, arching into the ceiling and creating an intricate design of wood in place of the sky. Here and there along the length of the hall, light broke through the branched ceiling, casting shafts of light at equal intervals into the hall. The sight was breathtaking, and Eragon could only stand and marvel the sight.

"This is definitely not how I remember it," he breathed, even now the sarcasm creeping into his everyday speech.

"After you were banished, Master Dronuthen gained a lot of favor at court, and the Queen appointed him to oversee all education in Ellesmere after the King's death," she told him. "He changed everything, closed this school, and ensured that Master Nolfavrell fell out of favor at court."

"What does he have against Master Nolfavrell?" he asked, still staring up at the redwood tree columns and intricately weaved vaulted ceiling. In the branches far above, birds of all species whistled and sung, whooped and flew, and built their nests and covered their eggs.

"Master Nolfavrell and Master Dronuthen have always opposed one another. Their methods and approaches to almost everything are so different. And Master Nolfavrell believes in peace while Master Dronuthen is an advocate for war."

"I see," Eragon murmured, trying to piece everything together, but he felt like he was still missing an important fact. _What is really going on here in Ellesmere?_ he wondered.

"Master Nolfavrell and his friends planted a garden here, causing the flowers to flourish and grow, even through the winter months. I guess you could say, it's their way of protesting," she said with an affectionate smile. "And a memorial, too, perhaps."

"A memorial?" he asked, stepping into a shaft of light beneath one of the openings in the ceiling, still staring up and marveling at the ceiling and sky above.

"For the children who studied here, who died in the war, or who were taken under Master Drothuthen's tutelage against their will," she explained, stepping into the sunlight with him.

Eragon finally tore his gaze away from the vaulted ceiling and back to the earth, where the hall was filled, from column row of trees to columned row of trees, with every kind of flora and fauna known to the Evles. Most of the species Eragon did not even know.

A white flower that looked similar to a lily caught Eragon's eye. Following the slate path amid the rows of flower beds, he leaned in to smell it. For some reason, it reminded him of Bid'Daum, graceful and flashy, but pure and fiercely strong. "I've never seen this flower before. What is it called?" he asked Lilathnia, pointing it out, fingering the soft curve of its petals.

Her response was a coy smile—the kind of smile that told she held a secret close to her heart. "It's a new kind of flower. Master Nolfavrell and his friends mixed many different floral species to create hybrids. New ones. They named some of them after the students," she said, coming up beside him, her arm brushing his sleeve. "This flower is named for me."

"Lilathnia," he breathed her name. _Graceful and strong. Indeed, it is just like her_, he thought.

She cupped the lily in the palm of her hand. Eragon moved close behind her, his chin grazing the top of her head. He tried not to think about how she smelled like lilacs as he slid his hand beneath hers. "It's beautiful. Just like you," he whispered in her hair.

Lilathnia blushed and bit her lip as she smiled. Without saying anything in reply, she moved away from his touch and embrace.

_Wait, what just happened_? _I thought that was a great line!_ Bid'Daum commented.

_Bid'Daum_! Eragon growled at his Dragon. _Don't you have anything better to do? Some privacy would be nice._ It was the first time he could ever remember wanting space from Bid'Daum.

_I'd love to_, the Dragon retorted, _but you are so excited that it's like you are shouting at me._

Eragon rolled his eyes for the second time and turned his attention back to Lilathnia. He saw that she was cupping a black rose in her hand this time.

Turning to look at him, she said, "This one is yours."

He cocked his head to the side in surprise. "Mine?" Coming up next to her, he asked, "Why is it black?"

"For your banishment," she told him, looking up at him. "Master Nolfavrell felt very sorry that it happened. They were all so sure that you wouldn't survive and had died."

_Black_, he thought, _was probably more appropriate than they all realized._ He voiced his thought aloud. "And here I am, back from the dead," he smirked, chagrined. "The black sheep amongst the flock of pure white."

Lilathnia snorted. "More like a wolf among the black sheep," she teased.

Eragon wasn't sure if he felt any better about that comparison. Seeing the disturbed look on his face, she lightly touched his arm. "That was a compliment. None of the Masters know what to make of you."

"Am I that odd?" he asked, more interested in what she thought of him than the others.

"Not at all," she reassured him with a smile.

He remained unconvinced.

"Don't you know how you look to the rest of us?"

"Wild? Crazy? A complete loon?" he supplied.

Lilathnia laughed, waving her hand as though she were swatting the thought away. "No, not at all! You're so free. You come and go, here and there, as you please, as though you feared nothing and no one, not even the Dragons. You survive the wild alone, are attacked by Fangurhs, and still beat the Master swordsman." She glanced away. "And, of course, you're very handsome."

"Handsome? How?" He bent down to catch her gaze. "My eyes are too slanted."

"No, they're not. Everyone else's is too round," she countered.

"My ears are pointed. Who has ears quite so pointed?" he scoffed. 

"Everyone has pointed ears, just not as elegantly as yours," she defended.

"I have lots of scars," he pointed out. "Scars everywhere!"

"So, do I," she said softly. The light across her face illuminated the faint scars lines across her cheek. She breathed in, and exhaled with her eyes closed, as though what she was about to say was difficult. "No one looks like you, Eragon."

This confused him. Furrowing his brow, he said, "That doesn't sound like a good thing."

She opened her eyes and answered him. "You look wild, like you've battled the world and won. You look feral, like you could battle the whole world again and still win. You're so aloof and secretive that everyone wants to know everything about you. And you're noble. You make everyone feel safe when they are near you."

Lifting her chin so that her gaze was level with his, he asked softly, "Do I make you feel safe?"

"Yes," she breathed, holding his gaze.

After a moment, she broke eye contact and pulled away from his touch. "Have you ever made a fairth?"

He tried not to feel disappointed at the sudden change in their conversation. "No, but I remembered from long ago Master Nolfavrell made one."

"I'll show you one," she said, picking up a stone slate from the pile stacked on the bench. He didn't hear the words she said under her breath, but when she titled the blank slate towards him, he saw that there was now an image of him. She swayed, and he knew that even that little bit of magic cost her much. He grasped her arms gently, lending her his strength.

"Take a closer look," she urged, passing the slate back to him.

He traced the image with his fingers, not because of what it said about him, but because of what it said she felt about him. It was if she had written all her emotions across the image. He looked back to her and saw that she was biting her lower lip as she waited for his response.

He reached out and brushed a stray strand of her dark hair behind her ear. Lightly tracing the faints scars on her cheek with the tips of his fingers, he whispered, "You are too good for me." He dipped his head, and pressed his lips gently to hers.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

_A green Dragon, young – having not yet breathed her first breath of fire—screamed and writhed in bitter agony. Caught in a trap, her right foreleg bled profusely, and a net covered her, pinning her to the rocky ground and preventing her great teeth and claws from breaking free._

"_Come now, baby Dragon, it can't hurt so bad," an unseen voice rumbled and echoed through the cavern. An unnatural green glow encircled the young Dragon as a dark and evil magic enveloped her._

"_You'll feel much better after this is all over," the voice rumbled again._

_When the owner of the voice finished his foul magic work, the green Dragon crouched in submission._

"_See, Dragon's aren't so bad when you can control them." The voice's owner stepped towards the young Dragon and ran his hands along the green scales, pausing to trace their razor sharp edges. "I have a little job for you to do, my dear."_

Eragon jumped awake, screaming aloud. At the same moment, Bid'Daum's white eyes flew open, and he roared with the anger of a thousand Dragons. _No Dragon should ever cower so lowly in submission_, they thought as one as the roar echoed and rang through the cave where they slept.

_Bid'Daum, did you dream—._

_Yes, I had the same dream,_ Bid'Daum finished for him.

_That Dragon was the one that attacked Lilathnia!_ Eragon cried.

The white Dragon growled.

_And that Elf was Master Dronuthen! What do you think this means? Is the green Dragon still alive?_ he asked, bewildered.

_Eragon, I do not think this is a dream of the future._

_What do you mean?_

_This was a Dragon dream. Dragons do not dream of the future, but of the past._

The thought, the realization, left the Elf feeling numb.

_I need a drink_. He stumbled out of the cave, into the morning light. The sudden brightness caused him to stumble, and he fell into the shallow river and let the water flow over him as he slowly drank. His body shook, and he couldn't clearly form his thoughts. Bid'Daum crouched above him along the river's bank, feeling equally disturbed and disquieted as he rumbled low in his throat.

"Eragon!" a voice far in the distance called. Elf and Dragon darted upright and froze in fear.

_It is far away_, Bid'Daum said at last, crouching lower into his forelegs and yawning wide.

Without further sound or scent of an approach, the two friends relaxed, and the Elf bent over the water to drink once more. A snap of a twig alerted them a moment later that their assumptions had been wrong, for Master Nolfavrell stumbled into view, rushing through the foliage and onto the bank on the far side of the river.

Seeing the young Elf lying peacefully in the shallow of the river, he exclaimed, "Eragon, I heard your cry and a Dragon's roar. I was most worried. Are you alright?" When Eragon made no move to answer, the old Master glanced about, his eyes lighting on Bid'Daum crouching above them, he cried out and drew his sword. He cursed in the Elvish language before he yelled in the Ancient Language, "Back foul, beast! You shall not have him!"

_How amusing,_ Bid'Daum thought without moving.

_How can you remain so calm about this?_ Eragon cried, leaping to his feet.

The old Master surged into the deep of the river, the water reaching no higher than his chest, charging at the white Dragon. The young Elf jumped to intercept him. "No!" he cried. Grasping the Master's arms, he shouted, "Drop your sword!"

"What are you saying, Eragon? He'll kill us and eat us!" The Master struggled against his pupil's iron grasp, recoiling from his mad student and cursing as he tried to free himself and slay the Dragon crouching for its attack.

Recalling words that he had once spoken to Eragon, Bid'Daum retorted, _You'd hardly make for a satisfying meal, old Elf._

The Master abruptly stopped his struggle against the young Elf. "Have I gone mad or did that beast actually speak to me?"

_You are mad, and this is a dream. But I do have a name. It is Bid'Daum. Not 'That Beast'. You'd do well to remember it_.

_Bid'Daum, don't tease him_, Eragon warned. Aloud he said, "He is real, Master Nolfavrell, and he is my friend."

"Your friend," he dumbly repeated, the sword handing limp from his hands.

"Yes. If you'd sit down, I'll explain everything," Eragon coaxed, a shiver of anxiety racking his body_. I feared this day might come. What do I say? What do I do?_ He pleaded Bid'Daum answer him.

_You admire this creature?_ his Dragon asked, snorting as he breathed deep the Master's odd scent.

_Yes, I do. He has taught me much._

_Then if you look up to this teacher, have faith that you have put your admiration on the right creature and tell him the truth of us_. Bid'Daum rumbled softly, punctuating his opinion.

The old Elf remained silent as Eragon took the sword from his hands, led him through the river, and bid him sit on a moss covered rock.

"It is a long story," the young Elf began, fidgeting with the frayed fringe of his tunic, "and I beg you to listen careful. Do not clutch and cling to the old fear that harasses your heart. Do not be poisoned by the myths and hatreds of our forefathers, for what I am about to tell you is something new and different entirely from all that we learned of our Dragon neighbors."

And so Eragon told his old Master their story from its beginning to its present. The old Elf listened silently and intently, clutching hard at his breast and muttering strange words from time to time, and as his pupil finished his fantastic story, he uncurled his fingers from over his heart and pressed them tightly to his lips.

As the ensuing silence became unbearable, Eragon pleaded, "Please say something."

The Old Master removed his fingers from his lips and opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he sang. As the bright morning light filtered through the trees and fell over the gathered party, he hummed a melody sweet, deep, and somber, and sang these words aloud:

_Out of the ashes of a fallen empire_

_Out of the darkness of war_

_Through the heat of the dragon's fire_

_A bond shall be forged._

_A glimmer of hope shall shine_

_A flame of peace shall blaze_

_Until the start of another age._

The ominous words sung instead of read had a strange effect upon Eragon and set him to shivering. _Why is he singing the words of the prophecy? I did not tell him of that part._

Bid'Daum rumbled, leaning in closer towards the old Master.

Eragon itched to cry aloud, halting the old Master in his musical recitation, but the two verses of the prophecy were soon spent. Believing it to be the end, the young Elf relaxed. However, the old Elf did not stop his song. Instead, he sang another verse:

_Look, children, as they rise_

_Together the sun shall glint off scales and spear_

_They will mount upon the clouds_

_And decree a never ending peace._

When the old Elf finished, he cried aloud, "Where did you hear that prophecy? Why did you sing those words?"

The Master smiled kindly, gazing solemnly at the pair as his voice betrayed him, wavering with deep emotion. "You two are the ones we've been waiting for. The two of you are going to change Alagaesia forever."

_Speak, Old Elf_, Bid'Daum growled, his apprehension overcoming his long-lasting patience. _What mean you by this? What is this that you speak of?_

But the old Master did not hear the Dragon's hostility. "I had dreams of a new world, of a brighter future. Such things I dreamed, Eragon, they are more vast and brilliant than the sea. I have been dreaming for so very long without hope. And now that you are here, with your blazing white Dragon by your side, your wyrda—your fate—brings me such hope that I can hardly bear to breathe. I dream anew. You, Eragon, and you, Bid'Daum are going to usher forth a new world."

Master Nolfavrell's words washed over Eragon. He could not pretend to understand the magnitude of the old Elf's words or the meaning of his wyrda, but he felt afloat in the sea of fate, drawn onward and swept forward. Deep inside he knew that once fate caught a creature, that being could never get away.

_I think,_ said Bid'Daum, staring at the old Master, _that we have an ally._


End file.
